


The Best Defense

by joisbishmyoga



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files
Genre: Complete, Crossover, M/M, Multi, Novel Length, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 52
Words: 205,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joisbishmyoga/pseuds/joisbishmyoga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of Cedric Diggory's death, after another Dark Tournament in Japan, Koenma discovers problems in the Wizarding World.  Who to send but his team, undercover and under false pretenses?  New magic and new companionships, as the Reikai Tantei are set loose on Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ch. 1-3, Letters, Negotiations, Atypical

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of an old and long-deleted story, with very few changes. The notes which once were available at the end of each chapter will now be at the end of the story entirely.
> 
> This story was written and plotted before the publication of Order of the Phoenix, and will not include Horcruxes, Hallows, etc. It is AU after Goblet of Fire.

  
Ch. 1- Letters  
  
Tokyo in late June usually suffered from heavy rain, as did the rest of Japan, but today it seemed that the unbearable weather of later summer was making an early appearance. The sun blazed high in a blue-white sky, and had long since replaced puddles of last night's rain with glassy heat-mirages. The still air stuck to skin like cobwebs, every breath as thick as syrup.  
  
Hiei dozed on a tree branch, wearing his customary heavy cloak and white scarf, nearly oblivious to the weather. He yawned, letting his mind wander. Yet another sultry, sleepy Ningenkai day. It almost made him want to immolate something. Or spook the hell out of Kuwabara; he hadn't done that for a while. He smirked imperceptibly. He'd go in another few minutes.  
  
A soft hooting distracted him, and he frowned. He cracked open one wine-red eye warily, watching as an owl landed on his branch with a nearly-silent wing flutter, and turned its head to look at him. He moved his foot sharply, since that was the part of him closest to the bird, but it merely hooted again and hopped a bit closer.  
  
Hiei opened his other eye and sat up a bit, a few spiky black wisps of hair falling forward over his headband. Since when did wild birds not take flight when a person got too close? Come to think of it, since when did owls fly during the day? And perhaps most importantly... since when did owls  
carry human mail?  
  
His eyes narrowed as the owl hopped even closer on one foot, extending the other with its packet. Visible in neat hiragana was an address:  
  
 _Mr. H. Jaganshi_  
 _3rd Branch Up, The Tallest Oak Tree_  
 _Yukimi Park_  
 _Tokyo, Japan_  
  
Hiei took the letter suspiciously, ignoring the owl as it flew away.  What was the damn fox up to now? This had to be his doing. The only people who knew his second name... which was more of a title than an actual family name... were Kurama and Koenma, and this didn't quite fit the demigod Koenma's twisted sense of humor. With a roll of his eyes, he opened the envelope, pulled out the letter, and (under a Western-style crest and letterhead) read:  
  
 _Dear Mr. Jaganshi,_  
  
 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted in the_  
 _newly-developed international program at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and_  
 _Wizardry, Hogsmeade, England. Please find enclosed a list of all neccessary_  
 _books and equipment._  
  
 _Term begins on Sept. 1. We await your owl no later than July 15._  
  
 _Yours sincerely,_  
  
 _Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_  
  
The signature was written in a flowing script, repeated with printed roman lettering, and he spent several minutes deciphering the name. Upon discovering it not only wasn't one he was familiar with, but was a human's double name rather than a demon's singular one, Hiei crumpled the parchment in his fist. He raised his power a bit and burnt it, annoyed. Someone-- not Kurama, unless he'd somehow mixed up his demon plants and gotten stoned-- was playing a joke on him, and it was NOT funny. Weird as all hell, yes, but definitely not funny.  
  
He flitted off, intent on making his day pleasant again.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Somewhat later, a tall youth, wearing a blue school uniform that was far too warm for the weather, walked through the same park. He had orange hair, cut short and combed up into a pompadour, and a rough-hewn face with prominent bones, which was currently scrunched up in a pained expression.  
  
Kuwabara Kazuma was getting one hell of a migraine. For the past two hours, he'd felt random flashes of a strong, unidentifiable power less than 50 feet away from him, but every time he looked there was nothing there. He'd yelled-- well, okay, screamed like a stereotypical girl-- each time for the first hour and a half or so, and gotten a lot of weird looks from passersby for it, but he'd long since developed a tension headache. Yelling now made his brain hurt as badly as a kanji test did. The continuing random psychic flashes didn't help much either.  
  
Damn that shrimp! Hiei was the only one he knew who was powerful enough to generate those flashes, fast enough to get away before Kuwabara could spot him, and stubborn enough to keep it up this long without flat-out killing him. Not that Hiei would kill him, that would upset Yukina...  
  
Yukina! She could help him with this headache, and he'd get to visit her in the process! Suddenly Kuwabara's day was looking up.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kuwabara got off the bus, pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to lessen the throbbing of his head, and sat on the bench at the stop, depressed. He'd forgotten to bring a gift for Yukina. He couldn't even berate himself about it properly since loud noise made his head hurt worse. He deserved it, though, forgetting to bring the sweet, beautiful ice demoness a present! He sunk his face in his hands.  
  
A soft hoot interrupted his brooding. He turned his head a fraction to the left, just enough to see a large owl had settled on the corner of the bench's backrest. Its talons pinned a letter to the painted wood. Kuwabara raised an eyebrow at the address visible on the front of the envelope, and gingerly took the letter from the bird.  
  
 _Mr. K. Kuwabara_  
 _The Bus Stop_  
 _Genkai's Temple_  
 _Tokyo, Japan_  
  
He was puzzled at that... how had they known he'd be here right now? He opened the letter and read it.  
  
"School of WHAT?!"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
In an alley somewhere between the temple and the park, another teen boy in an equally too-warm school uniform, this one green, knocked a man's head against a brick wall. He disdainfully let the unconscious man go, not bothering to watch as he slumped in a heap on the ground, and looked around the alley. Several more men lay where they'd fallen.  
  
Urameshi Yuusuke ran a hand over his black hair, making sure his slicked-back style was still in place. He'd gone easy on this gang, even though it was rather insulting to be targeted as an easy mark.  
  
"Aw, shit!" he muttered. "I'm late!" Keiko was going to throw a fit, he thought as he hurried towards the street.  
  
Suddenly he was blinded by something flapping in his face. He backpedaled with a startled yelp, lost his balance, and fell hard onto his tailbone. "Itai..." he hissed, looking up to see what had attacked him.  
  
A snowy owl stood on the pavement before him, one taloned foot splayed over a letter. As he stared incredulously, the owl hooted and pushed the letter towards him, in a manner he could only think of as deliberate. He picked the letter up, looking at the green-inked hiragana with a mix of  
annoyance and confusion.  
  
 _Mr. Y. Urameshi_  
 _The North End_  
 _The Alley With the Beat-Up Street Gang_  
 _Tokyo, Japan_  
  
"Mou, what's this?" he grumbled as he ripped open his mail. "Birds delivering letters now. The twerp should've just sent Botan..." This was obviously Koenma's doing, Yuusuke thought as he unfolded the letter and began reading it. "Hasn't he ever heard of cell... phones...?" The letter wasn't from Koenma. "What the hell?"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
A girl, wearing a powder-blue high school uniform, cheerfully climbed the stairs to the second-story side entrance of her home. She tucked her medium-length, brown hair behind her ear, then fished in her school satchel for her housekey. Wide brown eyes narrowed a bit as she pushed notebooks  
aside, only to crinkle in her usual smile as she discovered the errant keys hiding in the bottom corner.  
  
"I'm home!" Yukimura Keiko called, toeing her shoes off in the foyer. There was no answer, and she had not really been expecting one. Her parents would be working in their ramen shop downstairs at this time of day.  
  
She headed to her room and set the satchel on her desk. As she opened her closet to get a change of clothes, she heard a sharp rapping on her window. Keiko glanced at it curiously, seeing nothing. It was probably Yuusuke, since he was supposed to be arriving any minute. But he hadn't come  
to her window since they were children, and why on earth would he move away after tapping on the glass? She undid the latch, figuring he might have been trying to be polite (unlikely as that was) if she was changing, and opened the window.  
  
Something large flew through the open window, inches below the top sash, causing her to duck and cover her head instinctively. A low hoot, the hollow 'thwap' of stiff paper hitting a hard surface, and Keiko peeked up through her fingers just in time to see the bird swoop back out. As the seconds ticked away and nothing came back in, Keiko uncurled from her crouch. She shut the window firmly, paused, and turned to slowly approach her desk. She thought the bird had dropped something on it.  
  
An envelope, made of cream-colored parchment, lay flat atop her satchel.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
A knock on the door pulled Keiko's attention away from the strange letter. She'd read it over several times, barely able to believe what it said. She absently picked up the parchment as she went to answer the door, reading it over yet again as she walked down the hall.  
  
Yuusuke grinned cheekily at her. "Yo."  
  
Something clicked in Keiko's mind, and she brandished the parchment in Yuusuke's face. "If this is your idea of a joke..." she began.  
  
"Oh, you got one too?" He pulled his letter from his pocket and unfolded it. Keiko took it, comparing the two as Yuusuke continued. "This owl just flew in my face out of nowhere and delivered the thing..."  
  
"This is too elaborate to be a hoax, isn't it?" Keiko remarked.  
  
Yuusuke paused. "Dunno. I've pissed off some pretty weird people..."  
  
"All the more reason to ask Genkai about it."  
  
"What?" Yuusuke yelped, turning as Keiko swept past him and headed down the stairs. He groaned in resignation as he realized what Keiko was thinking, and followed her, muttering about pushy know-it-all girls and priestesses.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Throughout the bus ride, Keiko was unresponsive to Yuusuke's attempts to talk with her, and he eventually subsided into grumbling. Keiko barely noticed, and he shortly fell silent as well. This continued until they were nearly to the top of the hillside stairs leading to the temple grounds.  
  
"Now the fun part." Yuusuke said sarcastically. "Trying to find the old hag." Keiko spun, throwing her fist out to knock Yuusuke face-first into the smooth flagstones of the courtyard. He pushed himself up, spitting dirt.  
  
"Hey, what was THAT for?!"  
  
"Must you always call her that?!"  
  
"Yes!" he shot back automatically. Keiko made an exasperated sound and stalked off, leaving Yuusuke to scramble after her as she made her way to the traditionally-styled living quarters.  
  
"Hello?" Keiko called. "Master Genkai? Yukina?"  
  
"Oi!" Yuusuke shouted.  
  
A screen rolled open a short way along the covered porch, and a delicate, sweet-faced girl in pale blue kimono stepped out. Her hair was a soft shade of ice blue, caught low at the nape of her neck, and her eyes were a deep wine red that matched her crystal hair ornaments. "Keiko? Yuusuke?" Yukina greeted them curiously.  
  
Kuwabara left the room in the girl's wake, towering over her with a goofy grin on his face. "Urameshi! Keiko! What're you guys doing here?"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Shortly after, the four teens were sitting on floor pillows inside, four matching letters lying on the table they were clustered around. Cups of green tea cooled next to the letters, ignored as they listened to Yukina's soft voice.  
  
"And then Kazuma arrived with his letter, and the owl flew away." Yukina finished.  
  
Yuusuke spoke up first. "What's with the owls?" he demanded. "Why would anyone try to send a letter by owl? Seems pretty stupid to me."  
  
"Well, Yuusuke, it obviously works, since we all got these letters by owl." Keiko told him. "Besides, mail delivery isn't what's bothering me."  
  
Kuwabara nodded in agreement, frowning seriously. "Yeah. How the..." He paused with a glance at Yukina. "Er, how on earth did they get the right addresses?"  
  
Keiko put a hand to her forehead. "No, not that either." She tapped the letters. "Who sent them?"  
  
"This "Minabaa" person, of course." Kuwabara answered, mangling the English syllables.  
  
"First off, Western names are reversed." Keiko informed him. "They put the family name last. And second off, we don't know who or what McGonagall is, if that's their real name..."  
  
"I thought you'd decided these letters weren't a hoax." Yuusuke reminded her.  
  
"They aren't!" Keiko sputtered. "But... but... they could be a trap... though there are really much easier ways to make you walk into a trap..."  
  
"Ha!" Yuusuke crowed. "All that school's fried your brain, Keiko!  You're arguing against yourself!"  
  
Yukina picked up one of the letters. "Um... what do we do if they're genuine?" she asked softly, coincidentally stopping the brewing argument. The other three stared at her blankly.  
  
The screen rolled open, and a tiny old woman with faded pink hair entered the room. Her gaze slid across the four who'd turned to look at her, then fell upon the parchment in Yukina's hands.  
  
"I see you've recieved your letters." Genkai said flatly. They blinked in surprise. "I was told they'd arrive in July. No matter. Botan will be here at six."  
  
  
  
  
Ch. 2- Negotiations  
  
At five til six, the alarm wards surrounding Genkai's temple flickered in warning. Thus, by the time the slim teenaged redhead climbing the stairs reached the top, Genkai was in the courtyard to greet him. The boy bowed to the tiny woman.  
  
"Good evening, Master Genkai."  
  
"Your manners never cease to amuse me, fox," Genkai said, taking a drag on her cigarette. Kurama straightened, absently pushing a wayward lock of his long hair out of his face, as Genkai blew the smoke away and led him across the courtyard. "The others are inside." Pausing before the porch, she glanced over her shoulder, past Kurama and into a nearby tree. "You may as well come along now," she told the shadowy branches. "This will concern you."  
  
Kurama held back a chuckle as Hiei leapt silently from his not-so-hidden perch, seeming to materialize from thin air next to the redhead. Hiei flicked a lukewarm glare at them, which they took in stride as they entered the room.  
  
They were greeted by a clamor of voices as Yuusuke and Kuwabara descended on them with greetings and, for Genkai, questions about the letters. From her expression it was clear they'd already asked several times. Kurama and Hiei sidestepped the commotion and approached Yukina. They exchanged greetings, Hiei as always more respectful and kind than he was towards anyone  
else.  
  
"Did you recieve letters as well?" Yukina asked.  
  
"Yes," Kurama answered, taking his from his pocket. Hiei grunted noncommitally. "When I telephoned earlier, Genkai said..."  
  
"Botan is here," Genkai interrupted, raising her voice to carry over the din. A tall, beaming girl with a bright blue ponytail and pink kimono floated next to her, sitting sidesaddle on an otherwise ordinary-looking wooden oar. "Come."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The group stood calmly in the dim blue space between worlds. Thin lasers of a paler blue streaked past them, skittering off the surface of an otherwise invisible bubble surrounding them, and creating the illusion that they were traveling forwards at an incredibly high rate of speed. At the  
head of the group, Yuusuke and Kuwabara added to the illusion of speed as they ran full tilt towards an incandescent point of white straight ahead. Despite the number of times they'd been to Reikai, the two had yet to realize that running had no effect on how fast the trip took; that would require spacetime to exist outside the capsule Botan's oar generated for her passengers. No one had tried telling them yet, for various reasons. Kurama found it amusing, Genkai was allowing them to learn to be observant without reminders, Yukina didn't want to embarrass Kuwabara, Hiei didn't care, Botan was occupied with her flying and had never noticed, and Keiko had never been to Reikai before and was staring at the light-streaked tunnel in fascination.  
  
Within minutes, the white spark ahead of them seemed to explode, as it abruptly swelled to engulf their bubble. Their vision flashed white, then they burst through swirling green clouds into the lavender skies of Reikai. Hundreds of meters ahead and slightly below, a river of sickly white something ran through a pale yellow wasteland. It held steady for a moment, then Botan grinned and swooped towards the river, sending the view careening crazily from side to side.  
  
Kurama let out an undignified squawk as arms wrapped around his neck. A quick glance from the corner of his eye identified a pale Keiko as the culprit, and revealed Yukina clutching at Hiei's arm with her eyes screwed shut. He tugged at Keiko's arms, managing to adjust the tight grip just enough that he could breathe.  
  
"Dammit, Botan, would you fly straight?" Yuusuke bellowed. Beside him, Kuwabara was on his knees, moaning piteously.  
  
"Can't a girl have any fun?" But the bubble obediently steadied. Kurama managed to pry Keiko loose as they slipped into a gorge and leveled out five meters above the river.  
  
"Sorry about that." she murmured.  
  
"It's all right," Kurama told her Well, it wasn't all right, but it was forgiveable. Hiei looked like he couldn't decide whether to hit Keiko for half-choking Kurama or smirk at the still-queasy Kuwabara. He settled on the latter.  
  
The bubble settled to the ground before the towering pagoda of the Gates of Judgement and popped. Kuwabara still looked distinctly green, staggering upright only to double over. Yukina released Hiei's arm to hover worriedly near Kuwabara as Botan sent her oar to otherspace and opened the massive doors. Yuusuke paused in the doorway behind Keiko and glanced back, between Kurama and Hiei. The latter followed his gaze.  
  
"Kuwabara, come on!" Yuusuke called.  
  
"We're going to leave you behind," Kurama added teasingly.  
  
"I need a minute," Kuwabara grumbled.  
  
"Sure ya do, now c'mon," Yuusuke said.  
  
Kuwabara shook his head piteously. "You go on ahead, I'll be right  
there."  
  
"You don't know the way to Koenma's office," Kurama reminded him. "You'll get lost."  
  
"Just a sec..."  
  
"Ridiculous," Hiei muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Kurama to hear. He glared at the recovering teen and raised his voice to carry. "He's flown enough that a routine flight shouldn't be such a problem. Leave him."  
  
"What?! Teme!" Kuwabara shrieked in outrage, bolting upright. But Hiei was already walking down the dim hallway. He pushed past Yuusuke and Kurama and grabbed Hiei by the scarf, matching the little demon glare-for-glare.  
  
Yuusuke clapped a hand on each of their shoulders, pushing himself between them. "Oi, oi, not now," he said, grinning as he propelled them down the corridor. Hiei glowered and jerked himself out from under Yuusuke's arm.  
  
Kurama followed, falling into step next to Yukina. She glanced up at him, smiling softly at the three boys ahead. "Kazuma's stomachache is gone."  
  
"Aa."  
  
"Hiei's very clever to have distracted him like that."  
  
Kurama coughed. "Er... yeah. He is."  
  
They finally arrived in Koenma's office to find the demigod waiting for them in his energy-conserving toddler form. Before Yuusuke could do more than slap one of the letters on the desk before Koenma, though, he'd taken a remote from one of his desk drawers and turned on the monitor. An image of a teenage boy, a Westerner in black robes of an unfamiliar style,  
appeared.  
  
"This is Cedric Diggory, a British wizard of seventeen," Koenma began without preamble. "He was murdered about three days ago, by another human who goes by the name of Voldemort. So normally, this wouldn't be Reikai's concern, except for a few facts." He glanced at his slightly puzzled audience. "One: Cedric's death was unscheduled, but I can't put him back like I did for Yuusuke here last year. The spell used sealed his body from holding a soul, permanently. Two: he wasn't the ultimate target. And three," Here, Koenma made a face. "Kurama, you should be familiar with this. Three: Voldemort was scheduled to die fourteen years ago, though he didn't sneak his soul into a human to be reborn the way you did."  
  
"Get to the point," Yuusuke interrupted. "What's this have to do with owls and weird letters?"  
  
"You've been accepted at Cedric's school."  
  
"We've what?!"  
  
"We've been asked to help. Officially, Reikai can't do anything. Voldemort is not only untraceable-- we've had agents looking for him since he was supposed to die, and we just plain can't find him-- but he's also reportedly regained a fully functional body. We don't have the authority to kill people; we just pick them up after they die. Unofficially, well... we have no authority over Genkai's actions. She has accepted a teaching position at the school Cedric went to." Koenma leaned forward in his chair. "As of now, all seven of you are her students."  
  
"No," Kurama said quietly. Hiei turned on his heel and simply walked out.  
  
"Hiei! Wait a minute!" Koenma hopped over his desk, ignoring Kurama's answer for the moment, and chased Hiei, catching him by the sleeve just outside his office doors. "Yukina's going!" Koenma hissed. Hiei froze and glared chillingly down at Koenma, who hastily added, "It's either she goes with Genkai to Hogwarts, or she returns to Makai. I can *not* afford to let her stay in Ningenkai without Genkai's protection, not after what happened last time. I don't want her to be recaptured any more than you do!"  
  
Hiei slowly turned back. "Fine." He stalked back into the room with Koenma on his heels.  
  
Koenma flinched away from the look in Hiei's eyes, which promised a quick and rather messy death if Koenma ever lost his divinity, and turned to Kurama. "Cedric was learning human magic, at a Western school for wizards.  How many chances do demons of any sort get to even see Western magic?  They're one of the most secretive cultures in Ningenkai; they've been hiding from persecution for centuries. Over a millenia of cultural and magical advancement--!" he moaned dramatically.  
  
"Enough," Kurama murmured, visibly amused at Koenma's appeal to his curiosity. "I will go."  
  
"Great! Now that that's settled..."  
  
"Hey, I never said I would go!" Yuusuke interrupted.  
  
Keiko spoke over Yuusuke's protest. "But why must we go to this boy's school? I mean... he's dead...."  
  
"I said he wasn't the ultimate target," Koenma answered. "Voldemort was supposed to die fourteen years ago using the killing curse on a baby. The child survived." He nodded towards the monitor. "I'd show you a picture, but we can't track him any more than we can track Voldemort, haven't been able to since the curse backfired. But anyway, the boy's fifteen now, and he's  
the target."  
  
"So you want us to protect some kid who beat this guy when he was a baby?" Yuusuke asked. "Don't see why he even needs it."  
  
"He doesn't. And you aren't. Hogwarts is full of children who are either innocent bystanders or closet supporters and spies for Voldemort. Your job is to protect students in the first category, and hinder students in the second. Non-lethally, that is." He smiled wickedly. "Of course, if you  
do get the opportunity to kill Voldemort..."  
  
"We'll kick his ass," Yuusuke promised, curling his hand into a fist.  
  
  
  
Ch. 3- Atypical  
  
It should have been a relatively subdued group of Tantei that returned to Genkai's temple. However, given the temperaments and energy levels of Yuusuke and Kuwabara, to say they were a bit keyed up would have been an understatement.  
  
"We're going to kick some serious ass over there! Those wizards won't even know what hit them!"  
  
"I, Kuwabara Kazuma, intend to be the greatest wizard to ever come from Japan!"  
  
"I wonder if we'll be able to use that magic stuff to beat up on demons?"  
  
Others of the party were considerably less enthused.  
  
"I just started a prestigious high school!" Keiko moaned. "I'm never going to be able to get into a good college with a diploma from a school of magic!"  
  
"But won't it be interesting to learn Western magic?" Yukina tried to distract the taller girl. "Imagine, human magic! In England!"  
  
It was lost on Keiko. "Oh no!" she gasped, thinking of something else. "What am I going to tell my parents?"  
  
"The truth." Genkai said gruffly. "Just like all the other students from non-magical families must." She glanced around at the team as they touched down in the temple courtyard. "Go home. Tell your parents. Get some sleep. We have two months to work out the details."  
  
"Yes, Genkai," Keiko and Yukina chorused.  
  
"Yes, Genkai," Kurama echoed distractedly. As Keiko physically steered Yuusuke and Kuwabara from the courtyard and down the stairs, repeating Genkai's words about working out details later, Kurama absently bid Yukina good night and followed.  
  
At the bottom of the hill, the others turned towards the bus stop. He waved in acknowledgement of their farewells as he went in the other direction, heading home. Turning a corner, he glanced up at a tree overhanging the sidewalk, his gaze becoming less abstracted. Hiei jumped lightly from a high branch to fall into silent step with the redhead. The occasional brush of a hand against another, the barely perceptible ruffle of breath, and the quiet slap of shoes on the pavement was all the company either required at the moment.  
  
They reached Kurama's house as the setting sun's light faded to copper. Kurama gazed pensively up at the modest house, his hands in his pockets, but made no move to leave the sidewalk. Hiei shifted, barely nudging Kurama's arm with his own, and caught the redhead's instinctive glance. He tipped his head towards the house.  
  
"You wouldn't go to such lengths for a typical human," he said gruffly.  
  
Kurama paused, his eyes gentling. Hiei's opinion of humans, despite his recent stay in Ningenkai, was little better than the popular opinion of them held in Makai. The average demon was more heartless and less understanding than the average human, but in Hiei's opinion, not by much. Considering this view, to call Kurama's mother atypical was a reassurance and a compliment. The redhead offered a faint smile. "I wouldn't, would I."  
  
Hiei grunted and looked away, pretending he hadn't just said something remotely kind. "Later," he snapped, flickering away.  
  
Kurama sighed, and entered the house. Automatically toeing off his shoes in the foyer, he called out, "I'm home!"  
  
"Welcome back, Shuiichi," his mother, Shiori, called back in reply. He followed the sound of her voice to the kitchen, finding her washing the last of the dinner dishes. "How is the priestess doing?"  
  
"She's fine, Mom," Kurama answered, hovering in the doorway. He took his letter from his pocket, gazing down at it as he took a seat at the kitchen table. "Mom, I..."  
  
She turned, catching the odd note in his voice. "Yes, Shuiichi?"  
  
He stared at the letter in his hands, tracing the owl-worn edges. "I..." This was ridiculous. His hands were shaking. He was a centuries-old demon and a master thief; he shouldn't be reacting like this!  
  
Shiori sat down next to him, putting a hand over his to still them. "I haven't seen parchment since your father died," she murmured. As Kurama gaped at her, she shifted her fingers to the letter and continued, "Is this what's wrong? May I?"  
  
Kurama allowed her to take the envelope from his lax grip, sitting dumbly and trying to will himself to stop trembling as she read the single sheet of parchment inside. Human woman. She is a mere human woman! I'm grateful to her and that's it! I am not scared. I'm not.  
  
"Oh, Shuiichi..." she breathed.  
  
"I'm sorry!" he blurted out. It was her turn to be taken aback as he clenched his fists in his lap and bowed his head. "I'm so sorry... I hid it so long... I didn't--"  
  
"It's all right." She ruffled his hair. "You've probably been trying to protect your old Muggle mother, not telling me. But Shuiichi, England? Aren't you being taught here in Japan?"  
  
"I..." This wasn't how it was supposed to go. "I... yes..." What was the cover story? "My sensei's taken a teaching position in England. She wants us to go with her, to broaden our horizons. It would be a wonderful learning opportunity; Westerners are so secretive about this...!" He caught himself leaning forward almost pleadingly, and knew his eyes were shining. Inari, he was acting like a human teenager! But he was supposed to be one...  
  
His mother straightened. "But Shuiichi, England is Voldemort's base of operations," she said, pained. "You can't go."  
  
Damn, that was why they were going in the first place, to kill Voldemort again. "Volde... Mom, he's dead." She paled, and Kurama felt a familiar twinge of guilt. Well, Voldemort had been dead to the public until about three days ago. Close enough. "How do you know all this?"  
  
"Your father was a wizard," she answered weakly, absently. "He's dead? He's really dead?" Kurama nodded, eyes flying wide as he abruptly found himself with an armful of crying Shiori.  
  
"Thank the gods... oh thank the gods..." she sobbed into his shoulder.  
  
"Mom?" He felt his face heat up, and knew it was probably burning a brilliant shade of red. He patted her back helplessly, feeling ridiculous. Nothing in his several hundred years' experience had quite prepared him for this sort of reaction. She'd never succumbed to tears in front of him when she was in the hospital. Why on earth was she doing so now? "Mom, please!"  
  
"I'm sorry. It's... something of a shock." She collected herself, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief Kurama handed her. "Thank you. And a relief, of course. I've had no news of the wizarding world since your father died. When none of the priestesses contacted me before you were eleven, I assumed you had no magic..." Shiori took a deep, shuddering breath as she brought herself under control once more and stood. "Come with me."  
  
Kurama, still adapting to the revelation that his father was a wizard, followed bemusedly as his mother led him upstairs and to the attic trapdoor. As he was a bit taller, he pulled it down at her direction, and they climbed the ladder. Shiori brought him to a rather battered trunk at the far end, kneeling before it. Kurama settled himself next to her and looked curiously from the trunk to Shiori.  
  
"There's no lock."  
  
"I know." She stretched her hand out and touched the smooth metal where a lock would be on a normal trunk. "Put your hand here and will the trunk to open. Then say 'Alohomora'."  
  
His slim fingers covered hers on the metal plate. "Alohomora." he murmured. The lid faded away like mist before their eyes, revealing the trunk's contents. Lying on top was a flat wooden box, inlaid with an elegant abstract design in darker woods and polished to a glossy sheen.  
  
Shiori lifted the box reverently. "Your father left this to you. He was so certain you would need it... but I suppose you have one already." She placed the box in Kurama's hands. "Still, it should be given to you personally." She sat back, glancing at the trunk. "Close," she directed, and the lid phased back into place. "The trunk can be closed by anyone, but opened only by a witch or wizard," she explained. "So it is yours, to do with as you see fit. I... it is late, and I have an early morning tomorrow."  
  
Kurama stood, cradling the slim box with one arm. He guessed that she wanted to break down in private. "All right. Let's go to bed; it's been a long day." This time, he led as they returned to the second floor and closed the trapdoor. "Good night, Mom," he said softly.  
  
"Good night, Shuiichi. Sleep well."  
  
Kurama went to his room, placing the mysterious box on his desk and preparing for bed. There was no sign of Hiei, who slept here as often as not, especially during the rainy season, but he hadn't expected him to come tonight anyways. Probably out working off his fury at being roped into this, or watching over Yukina for any sign that she doesn't want to go and he can get out of the mission. He turned the covers down on his low bed, then sat down at his desk. Nice how that worked out. I think I want to be alone for this.  
  
He traced the design on the box's smooth lid. "Father..."  
  
He hadn't really thought much about his father before. The man had died before Kurama's human body was a year old. Nearly half of the memories he had were hazy images, not from a lack of mental ability on Kurama's part, but from the simple fact that his infant eye muscles had been unable to focus on anything that wasn't approximately a half-meter from his face. As he recalled, his father had been a smiling, sandy-haired man who'd smelled of sawdust.  
  
Had he made the box? It was a work of art in and of itself, worth hundreds of thousands of yen, at least. Kurama tried the lid, discovering that it moved easily, with no signs of mildew or warping.  
  
Inside, the contents were hidden by a layer of soft black velvet. Kurama set the lid aside and folded the cloth back. More velvet cushioned and displayed a well-packed assortment of glass vials, woodworking tools, an eyeglass, two pieces of wood, and a folded sheet of parchment. He withdrew the parchment, delicately opened it, and set to reading.  
  
<i>To my precious son,  
  
As I write this, the morning breeze is tugging playfully at the rosebuds on the arbor outside your nursery window.  They seemed to sprout almost overnight, their bright petals cracking free as quickly as you seemed to outgrow your swaddling clothes and your mother's arms.  
  
If you are reading this, I have not survived to see you grow up. I am more sorry for that than I can ever say. I can only hope these dark times have ended for you.  
  
From the day you were born, I have occasionally felt the power your human child's form cannot yet call forth. A wand made for a human-souled wizard will never fully suit you, little one, and I cannot craft one for you now.  
  
This box contains all you need to craft a wand that suits you and you alone, save the magical core. As a magical being, a hair of your nonhuman form would understandably suit you best. As for the rest, follow the directions enclosed.  
  
I have not told Shiori the contents of this letter. She would understand the truth all too well, that you did not choose her as anything more than the first safe place you came across. She would love you still, but that knowledge would only hurt her.  
  
I only wish I could have been there as Shiori taught you humanity. I love you, my little son. Be well.  
  
-Father</i>  
  
Kurama replaced the letter and closed the box with white-knuckled hands. "I'm getting too old for this," he muttered, turning off the light.  
  



	2. Ch. 4-5, Snippets from a Hectic Summer

Ch. 4- July (snippets from a hectic summer, part 1)  
  
  
The next day, June 28th, was the new moon. At sunset, Kurama took a vial of mint oil and a rose branch from the box, to cast the first of the spells in the instructions his father had left him. It was a long one, entirely in Latin, and he had needed to practice most of the day to get his mouth around some of the sounds.  
  
" _Ego evoco mater immortalis_ ," he murmured, hoping his accent wasn't ruining the spell. " _Illa qui sumit terrae et maria, escae et refugium_." He annoited the tips of the branch with drops of the oil, the scent of mint sharp enough to sting cold behind his eyes, and rubbed it in carefully. " _Astrum nox et textum res reposcite suus potestas, renasce pariter luna_." Relief washed through him as the oil shimmered and power washed through the branch, turning the fifteen-year-dry stick as fresh as if it had been cut from its bush seconds before. A tiny droplet of sap oozed from the thicker end onto his finger.  
  
Perfect.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Life at the Dursleys had never been particularly pleasant. Once again, Harry shut himself away in his room when he returned from Hogwarts, coming out as rarely as possible. The very first week, though, a commotion downstairs brought him out.  
  
"Mrs. Figg has gone missing!" he heard his aunt announce. He could easily hear her delight at the drama of the (normal, non-magical, non-"freakish") event.  
  
"Missing?" Uncle Vernon's voice rose incredulously.  
  
"Yes! The car's gone, the house is dark, and there's not a single cat about!" Petunia said this last as if it were the ultimate proof, which it probably was.  
  
"Maybe she's just gone to, uh, visit relatives," Vernon said. "And taken those damned cats with her."  
  
"Relatives? Old Arabella's last relative died off years ago, dear."  
  
Harry jolted in shock. He remembered that name from just a week ago: Arabella Figg, one of the people Dumbledore had sent Padfoot off to warn. Mrs. Figg was Arabella Figg? A witch?  
  
He closed his door and leaned against it, biting his lip against the incredulous and completely inappropriate laughter that would bring his uncle running. It just had to be the neighborhood crazy cat lady.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
The most immediate, and largest, problem was the training. Of the entire group, only Genkai knew anything about Western sorcery. Kurama only vaguely remembered a passable amount of Latin, the main source of the language used in Western spellcasting. None of them had wands; Keiko had never used magic at all.  
  
Today, the Tantei were learning proper wand movements. They would be using slim sticks for this, since none of them had an actual wand yet, and wouldn't until they reached Britain. Western wands were best for Western magic, Genkai had said, and the best of those were sold in London.  
  
"Point your finger, Yuusuke, a wand is not a club. Hiei, use your left hand, please; your handwards will disrupt the magic. Excellent grip, Kurama, I see whip techniques translate well to wand work. Raise wands like so, swish, and flick. Understood?"  
  
Yuusuke's eyes narrowed in distaste. "'Swish'? I don't swish. Girls swish. Pansi--OW!"  
  
"Grow up, Yuusuke!" Botan said sharply, pulling her oar back from poking him in the head with it. "There are thousands of male wizards who do this every day."  
  
"Enough," Genkai snapped. "Swish. And. Flick." The team did so. "Very good, but put a bit more authority behind that, Yukina. Again. Raise wands. Swish and flick."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Later, Hiei and Keiko knelt, facing each other and surrounded by bamboo in a corner of the temple gardens.  
  
"Hiei...?" Deep red eyes snapped to her. "Why... Genkai said most of us would have been found on Shichi-go-san, by the temple families. I know Kurama was hiding, and Kuwabara said he learned from his parents before they died... but..."  
  
"Yuusuke died."  
  
"Oh." Right. He hadn't done anything supernatural until after he'd come back. Being dead must've done something to unlock his abilities "And... and me?"  
  
Hiei smirked faintly, loosened the ward covering his forehead, and let it fall. His third eye opened, violet burning as it stared at Keiko unblinkingly. "That, we are working on now," he murmured as the human girl's eyes glazed over.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
"She's back."  
  
"Hm? Who?"  
  
"Mrs. Figg." Petunia sounded disappointed. "A couple of her cats came down with some nasty virus. She had to take the whole lot into London and have them quarantined."  
  
"It's not contagious, is it?"  
  
"Oh, no, not to us. Quite nasty to a cat, though, she said."  
  
"Good. We won't have _him_ ruining Dudley's birthday next week, then."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
July 12th, midnight. Two weeks since Kurama had cast the first spell, and the moon was full and bright. Kurama had rubbed wood rose oil into the branch that would become his wand every night since then, murmuring a simple incantation-- Madeo Visium-- repeatedly until the oil had vanished into the raw wood and the wand shimmered to his eyes. Tonight required another long spell, though.  
  
The redhead brought the entire box.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Draco Malfoy knew exactly who he was was. Draco Malfoy was his father's son. He was the epitome of what a purebred wizard should be. He was well-groomed and well spoken. He carried himself with air of self importance that dared others to defy his will. He was young, but he was powerful. And when he entered a room he was the center of attention. He was a Malfoy.  
  
As the creme de la creme of wizarding society-- which was, of course, the only society worthy of the Malfoys-- the family was obligated to make sure the wizarding world remained worthy. Why, it was their civic duty to help Voldemort come to power, to clean out the Muggle blood in the wizarding community.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow at himself in the mirror. Civic duty, what a joke. His father was in it for the power of being second-in-command of the wizarding world. Or at least, he had been, up until Voldemort got himself offed by that squalling halfbreed brat, Potter. But who cared? He'd been powerful enough to leave the entire wizarding world scared to say his very name for over a decade, and he was even stronger now that he was back. And with the Malfoys on his side...  
  
"We're going to win," he murmured to his reflection. It smirked back at him. "And I think I'll make Potter grovel a bit before we kill him."  
  
The door crashed open behind him. Draco spun, barely aborting a startled yelp as his father swept into the room. "Good morning, Draco. You're ready to go downstairs? Good. Come along."  
  
Downstairs, Voldemort was waiting. He looked Draco over slowly, unnervingly. "A fine boy you have here, Lucius," he said at last.  
  
"Thank you, Master."  
  
"Unsurprising. The Malfoys have reaped beauty for generations. I doubt that you could fail to sire such a... beautiful boy. Well, then, what is your name, boy?"  
  
"Draco, sir."  
  
"The dragon. Of course. Highest of the serpents according to lore. A compliment to your master, perhaps, Lucius? Or a prediction?" Voldemort asked silkily. "So, young serpent, what is it you wish?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"You are aware that you are your father's heir, boy. What do you want as one of my Death Eaters?"  
  
Draco paused, eyes narrowing as he considered the question. "I want perfect Potter to lick my boots."  
  
"An admirable answer, boy. Unfortunately, it is incorrect. Lucius, you have been remiss in your duties. Crucio."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Harry's eyes flew open, and he stifled a gasp as his scar abruptly began to burn.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
" _Madeo visium, perfora directus et rectus, permane cunctus et solidus undique hic instrumentum, perfora directus, permane solidus_..." Hazy infant memories played in the back of Kurama's mind, brought back by the faint scent of sawdust. It was a painstaking task to bore a needle-eye-sized shaft through the center of a 25 cm branch, but the spell Kurama was using included a charm to keep the hole centered, and the borer had a well in the handle for the rose oil needed inside the hair-thin cavity.  
  
He glanced at the moon, almost at the horizon now, and spared a second to take a steadying breath. He mustn't rush.  
  
" _Permane solidus_..."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
"And swish and flick... flick, Kuwabara, not bludgeon! Swing a real wand like that and you'll conjure someone's head from their neck!"  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
"But you have to tell us something!" Yuusuke yelled into the compact communicator. This time, he was armed with some of Keiko's arguments. "How are we supposed to do our job if we don't know anything about this target?!"  
  
"Again, you are not protecting the target, your concern is the student body as a whole!" Koenma's voice buzzed slightly as it hit volumes the communicator's tiny speaker wasn't designed to handle.  
  
"There are only seven of us, man, plus Genkai! We can't be everywhere at once!" Yuusuke paused, drawing himself back slightly. "From what we've been told of this place, we can't even be on all the floors at once. The best we can do is keep an eye on the target's closest friends and worst enemies. At least give us a name so we'll know who those people are!"  
  
"I would if I HAD one!"  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
July 28th. The sky was a stark black, relieved only by the brightest stars and Tokyo's light pollution. Kurama finished with the oil treatment and laid the wand onto a black cloth on the ground.  
  
The instructions had told him to drink the contents of a vial labeled simply "3" at this point. Kurama warily popped the cork and took a whiff of the potion inside. It smelled familar. Recognition hit him with the force of Yuusuke's Rei Gun.  
  
"Potion of Past Life?" Kurama gasped. How had his father gotten this?  Suzuki hadn't even invented it until a couple of years ago...  He sniffed again.  
  
Ah.  Just the active ingredients, without the slightly chalky tinge that let Suzuki's potion mist up when it wasn't under pressure.  
  
Kurama's father probably hadn't known if Kurama would be able to change to his demon form at will when the time came. In fact, he'd probably assumed Kurama wouldn't be able to, and had included this so he could collect the hair he would use for the wand's core in a few hours.  
  
He drank, and a few minutes later, the glade was empty save for a five-tailed silver fox. The night was far too welcoming to waste.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
July 28th, dawn.  
  
" _Ego evoco pater cum ramus, ille qui morioit et nascit ab integro quotannis_..." Kurama threaded his youko hair through the wand. " _Integro visium scipii_." The wand pulsed strongly enough to startle Kurama, and he nearly dropped it. " _Integro visium virgae!_ " Another pulse, this one accompanied by a flash as bright as daylight to his magical senses. " _Integro_!" The wand showered golden sparks over the clearing.  
  
"What the _hell_ are you doing?"  
  
Kurama raised his head, staring dazedly up into the boughs of the nearest tree. "Hiei?"  
  
"That hurt, fox. Put up a barrier next time; you've probably caught the attention of every youkai in the city."  
  
"Every one?" Kurama smiled, pale morning light glinting from sharp canines.  
  
"Every telepath," Hiei allowed. "Well?"  
  
"Making a wand." He grinned wider at the surprised look Hiei gave him. "It gave off more of a kick than I expected."  
  
  
  
Ch. 5- August (snippets from a hectic summer, part 2)  
  
  
Harry sat on his narrow bed, staring dully out the window. Dudley had managed to fall down the stairs earlier today, tripping over his own Smelting stick-- amazing how the stairs had survived the impact, Harry thought uncharitably-- and in the aftermath, Harry had gotten the blame for leaving the stick where someone could trip over it. Despite his entirely true protests that he had no interest in messing with the stupid stick, Uncle Vernon had added three more locks to his door, two of them deadbolts. Harry was well aware that his godfather, and the fact that Dudley had suffered no more than a strained muscle, was the only reason he hadn't been thrown into the cupboard for the remainder of the summer. Perhaps he should be thankful for that, but he was only human. So he stared out the window and sulked. Some birthday.  
  
Something moved against the night sky, catching Harry's attention. He leaned against the glass, not quite sure what he was seeing. Whatever it was, though, it was heading directly towards his window. Harry pushed the sash as high as it would go, and jumped out of the way as owls began swooping through the window, with no regard whatsoever for what might get knocked over by their abrupt entrance. Box after box fell to the floor, their feathered deliverers finding perches on every available surface as they waited for the window space to clear. Harry groaned and prayed none of the Dursleys would hear the soft hooting coming from his room, as a ninth owl dropped a smaller parcel and a letter on his bed and swooped out. As the other owls took this as a signal they could leave, and did so, Harry opened the letter.  
  
  
 _Dear Harry-_  
  
 _Happy Birthday! I'm so sorry I can't be there or take you out to celebrate properly, but the way things are... well. Been running around all over England, and then there was a meeting a couple of weeks ago._  
  
 _You should've seen Molly at the meeting. Amazing woman, can't believe she's not in the Order yet. The woman had most of the room squirming like first-years in the Headmaster's office in a matter of minutes. So now the Burrow has wards to rival your own there at the Dursley's, and the Weasleys should be stopping by to pick you up tomorrow or the day after._  
  
 _But, speaking of today!  I want to shower you in presents, you know that, right?  But I admit, I'm about twenty years out of date with what's "groovy" (Muggle words are weird), especially in the Muggle world.  Remus suggested books, books of all things!  Do not believe anyone who tells you he's an upstanding citizen except for the whole furry problem, Remus is the worst prankster of us all, he is having me on._  
  
 _(You don't really want books, right?  I'm okay with it if you do!  I am!  But... books?)_  
  
 _Hope to see you soon._  
  
 _Your loving godfather,_  
  
 _Padfoot_  
  
  
Harry smiled. He was going to the Burrow! And... he had birthday presents. A LOT of them. He picked up the small package on the bed and knelt next to the other boxes. Sirius had gone a bit overboard, even without having any idea what would be interesting.  
  
The first box held a pair of knitting needles, much to Harry's bemusement.  A note underneath them read:  
  
 _One of your mother's quirks was that she could_ not _keep her hands still while sitting.  If it wasn't taking notes, it was tapping the table, or twisting her rings, or accidentally casting hilarious kiddie jinxes at people.  After the third time Dumbledore spent half the Order meeting speaking in verse, he asked Lily to please try bringing some sort of small charms project with her._  
  
 _Her first project was a pair of knitting needles for Arthur Weasley, whose wife was expecting twins at the time.  (I think you know them!)  She repeated the charm a couple of years later for herself and Alice Longbottom, you can probably guess why, and gave the needles to Remus when you all went into hiding.  He says that all his sweaters are Lily-made to this day._  
  
Harry swallowed hard against a lump in his throat.  
  
Somewhere around the sixth box (more of his mother's charmwork: a trio of self-labeling Potions vials,  a windless wind chime, and a calendar that poured Honeydukes truffles from the three days before and after the full;  and a couple of his father's things: a chain necklace of some silvery metal, the included note explaining that it was bristling with Auror-grade protection spells, and an old Snitch that fluttered weakly in Harry's trembling hand) a tiny owl swooped in through the still-opened window. Ron's Pigwidgeon excitedly zoomed around the room several times before dropping a package nearly three times his size on the bed, hooting importantly.  
  
Harry tried to hush the hyperactive little bird, but shortly gave up. The Dursleys hadn't come rushing in yet, anyways, and Pig just couldn't make the same racket as ten-or-so fully-grown owls did, no matter that he tried.  
  
"Good Pig, thanks," he murmured, taking up Ron's package and extracting... a photo album labeled 'Hogwart's Greatest Moments'? He opened the book to a random page and found the first picture Colin had taken of him, the one where Lockhart had shown up and prevented Harry from avoiding it. His photo-self was still putting up a great fight, he noticed, before his eyes were drawn to the words scrawled in Ron's handwriting below.  
  
 _Did you know his hair was a wig by then? Fred and George put Defollicating Potion in his shampoo the first night. They say he should still be bald._  
  
Harry turned the page. It held a picture of him on his old Nimbus 2000, during that first insanely early Quidditch practice his second year. "Right before Slytherin stole Gryffindor's practice slot. Of course, Slytherin needs all the practice time they can swipe. With Harry on the team, we can't help but kick their arses." He chuckled. That was so Ron.  
  
Setting the album aside-- he'd look through the rest later-- Harry continued working his way through the rest of the packages from Sirius.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
The pressure pushed Keiko to her knees, bearing down and in until she thought her insides were going to implode. Breathing was nearly impossible, and she'd quickly given up trying to keep her eyes open in favor of forcing her lungs to work. A harsh, hollow rushing sounded in her ears, but she couldn't tell if it was the air, her heartbeat, or the voiceless gasps of effort she was sure she must be making.  
  
"Why...." she managed. The pressure let up negligibly, a violet tinge she hadn't even realized was there fading away to black, with the telltale phantom color splotches of tightly closed eyes. "No." The rasping sound became recognizable pained breathing, but not hers. Not hers? "STOP IT!"  
  
The pressure vanished.  
  
Confused, Keiko slowly opened her eyes, blinking when they cooperated. She had a pounding headache, her skin was slicked with sweat as if she'd just finished gym class, and she ached down to her bones in a way she couldn't identify. Keiko slowly turned her head, feeling as though a million weights were pulling her in the other direction, and finally saw the reason for her discomfiture.  
  
"Hiei! What on earth are you doing to me?"  
  
The fire demon watched her unblinkingly with all three eyes, then abruptly crouched. He lifted her chin in a surprisingly gentle gesture.  
  
"You fought back."  
  
Keiko was not having that. She mustered up her best glare, the one that usually stopped Yuusuke in his tracks. Amusement flashed through Hiei's eyes.  
  
"You're strong enough magically _to_ fight back," he clarified.  
  
"And that makes it all right for you to hurt me?"  
  
He frowned. "You'd never have lasted at that school with your magic levels as low as they were. You'd probably have gotten sick."  
  
"Couldn't you have told me that before you started?"  
  
"Would you have cooperated if you knew success would hurt?"  
  
Keiko paused. "I don't know," she admitted.  
  
Hiei nodded curtly and released her.  But before he could step away, she caught the hem of his coat.  
  
"Why would I have gotten sick?" she asked.  
  
"... Your magic's not natural to you," he replied slowly.  "I'm still looking into why.  Think of it like..." he thought for a moment, "an organ transplant.  You were rejecting what little you had already."  
  
"So you're acting like immunosuppressing drugs."  
  
Hiei rolled his eyes.  "I'm forcing your body to accept what it's got.  We'll see how well it worked if you don't collapse when we get there."  
  
Keiko huffed a little bit.  "Just tell me these things.  Now I can agree."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Draco sprawled indolently in his favorite chair, staring out the window at the grounds of Malfoy Manor. To all appearances, he was either sleeping with his eyes open or bored to the brink of catatonia. In either case, it was unlikely anyone would disturb him.  
  
If Draco had been certain he wouldn't be seen, he would have been pacing the floor in an absolute fury. He pictured himself scowling, the expression revealing more bitterness than even Perfect Potter could inspire in him. Wait, no, that looked almost ugly. Better to use an expression of righteous anger with coldly bright eyes.  
  
"Three weeks!" he would snap. "Three bloody weeks!" On the last word, he'd reach the end of his paced line and spin sharply on his heel, his fine robes swirling in his wake. "You'd think he'd come to his senses the first night," he'd sourly add as he continued to pace. "After the bastard bloody Crucio'd him--! Crucio! On him! In his own house!"  
  
"But no!" he'd snap. "Three weeks and it's been getting worse! He panders to the man's every whim, grovels at his feet and licks his boots and for what? Power? What sort of power is that, sniveling before someone who keeps getting his arse kicked by a part-Muggle Gryffindor prat?"  
  
Breaking something at this point would be a nice touch. The vase over in the corner, perhaps. His father liked it. He could throw it through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, make a most satisfying crash. With any luck it would land on a house-elf. Or his father. Same difference, with the way Voldemort had reduced Lucius to behaving.  
  
"Bloody house-elf," Draco hissed.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Harry was sitting on the stairs in front of the door. The Dursleys had heard that the Weasleys were coming that day (via the Muggle route, thankfully) and had made a retreat to the kitchen, where they would wait out the onslaught without Dudley whining that he was hungry. It was fast becoming uncomfortable, the way their hostility was leaking out of the kitchen.  
  
At five after five, a plain blue sedan pulled up out front. Harry leapt to his feet, nearly throwing the door open in his haste.  
  
"Harry, dear boy, so good to see you again," Percy Weasley said superciliously. Harry glanced towards the car. "I do hope you've had a good summer? Of course you have." Looked like it was just Percy. Harry deflated slightly; he'd hoped Ron would have been able to come as well. And to be stuck in a car with just him all the way to Devon, well... at least Percy wasn't the Dursleys.  
  
"Do get your trunk, Harry," Percy instructed needlessly. "It's been a terribly busy summer at the Ministry, you know," Percy continued. Harry tuned him out as he began stowing his things in the car. A few phrases came through. "simply impossible ... absolute spectacle of herself ... most insistent ... quite agree with the Minister ... stress of the Tournament, though, I say ... persisted ... so hard to keep disconnecting ... can't have a Muggle fireplace permanently attached to the network, now can we."  
  
"What? No, of course not, Percy," Harry said, shutting the front door on the Dursley's horrified sputtering. Ron's brother had apparently gotten worse since he'd last seen him. He allowed Percy to herd him into the car, buckling up as the redhead got behind the wheel and pushed a button labeled 'start'. "Does this car have a radio?"  
  
"Of course not." Percy spun the wheel sharply and pulled onto the road behind the Dursley's house. "And it does not fly, either."  
  
"That was three years ago!" Harry protested as they somehow skipped over the rush-hour traffic jams.  
  
"Yes, almost long enough for the Ministry to recover from that fiasco." Harry would have sworn it was teasing from any other Weasley, but the look on Percy's face convinced him that the redhead was actually dead serious. Another twist of the wheel brought them into Dorset from Surrey, skipping the county between.  
  
"How are you doing that?" Harry asked. Percy's wand was still securely in his robes, and he hadn't done anything spell-ish that Harry had noticed.  
  
Percy gave him an odd look. "Magic, of course."  
  
"I meant... never mind." The rest of the drive passed in silence.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
"Oh, dearie! It's so good to see you again! How has that Muggle family been treating you? And after last year, too... come in, come in, I've got some lovely fudge I just made. Percy, be a dear and put his things in Ron's room."  
  
Nothing stood in the way of Hurricane Molly. She bustled Harry into the kitchen just in time to catch one of the twins with the plate of fudge. "No! None for you, George."  
  
"I'm Fred!"  
  
"Fred then, and still none for you. You'll spoil your dinner." Molly snatched the plate away and held it out to Harry. "Have a piece, dearie, you're far too thin."  
  
"Mum--!" Molly shot Fred a sharp look. "Er... eat up, Harry."  
  
Harry took a couple of pieces, then, at Molly's stern look, a few more. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." He took a bite. "It's very good. Uh..."  
  
"Of course, you want to see Ron. He's upstairs."  
  
Harry made a 'well, come on' face at Fred and headed up the stairs, then handed a couple of the pieces to the twin. Fred handed them right back.  
  
"No thanks, Harry, Fred's already got half the batch." He grinned at Harry's bewildered look. "I was teasing Mum down there, I'm George."  
  
Fred-- er, George-- then winked and ducked into the twins' room. Harry continued up to Ron's room, finding his friend pushing Harry's trunk under the trundle and out of the way. "Ron?"  
  
"Harry!"  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Kurama took one last swipe with his oiling rag, and sat back to admire his handiwork. No one had ever accused the kitsune of being modest, but his human persona, Shuiichi, who had somehow become part of Kurama as well, was not used to self congratulations. Even Shuiichi was gloating over this, though.  
  
He was certainly no expert in Western human wands, but he could feel the strength and clarity of the power he'd created-- literally created, since the cleansing rituals of last month and the rest period between then and now had wiped his personal signature from the magic. It was now unfocused, though not generic, potential. Absently rubbing the still-unattached handle in his hand, he resisted the mindless need of the infant wand as he waited for the sun to reach its zenith. Almost... almost...  
  
The wand surged with power, and Kurama was moving, snatching up the rod as he flipped the handle in his hand. " _Rarus_!" he cried, pressing the glowing wand against the solid base of the handle, where it seemed to catch before sliding in a few centimeters and fusing. The sense of power snapped off with an almost physical slap, and though Kurama had been expecting this from his father's notes, he still dropped the wand. It lay inert in the grass as Kurama carefully extended his senses, moving his hand slowly over the wand, not quite touching it.  
  
Nothing. The wand's power had been properly contained. It looks so simple, a small part of his mind noted, but the power...! Kurama carefully repacked his father's box, took up the wand, then stood and tapped at the magical shielding surrounding the clearing. "I'm done." The barrier vanished with a faintly purple flicker. As Kurama walked from the grove, Hiei appeared to walk next to him.  
  
"Thank you for helping with the shield, Hiei."  
  
The smaller man glanced disdainfully at the wand in Kurama's hand, ignoring the customary human pleasantries. "Is it done now?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Hn."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
The first thing Harry noticed was the smell, the thick stench of rotting things and pond scum. The slimy stuff clung wetly to half-submerged rocks and dead trees, spreading outwards in a deceptively solid carpet over the murky, still water. Somewhere off to the side, a low voice chanted harshly. He followed it, making a face as the muck seemed to cling to him undisturbed.  
  
Shortly, he struggled up onto a soggy bank of mud and debris at the base of a massive, half-worked stone, several times Harry's size and long since tumbled on its side. Harry peeked over the stone, clutching tightly to the lip as his feet slipped in the warm mud, and ducked down again quickly. He knew that face, even lit up by bruise-purple light as it was, and even if he hadn't caught a glimpse, the second man's hand gleamed of metal.  
  
"Get it," Voldemort snapped. Pettigrew whimpered, but moved Harry's way. Harry froze, trying to feel the familiar weight of his wand somewhere on him, but he could feel nothing but thin fabric. Even his glasses were missing. Wait-- how on earth could he see past the stone without those?  
  
On the other side of the stone, the sound of Pettigrew's movements changed, as if he had stopped, and then he began moving away. A faint whinny had Harry instinctively peering back over the rock, in time to see Pettigrew leading a pale gold, one-horned colt towards his Master. Voldemort slid a knife from his sleeve.  
  
"NO!" Harry leapt over the rock, or at least tried to. He smashed into something halfway over that left his scar flaring with pain. The landscape blurred and darkened as Harry fell backwards, his hands clutching at his forehead.  
  
The unicorn's scream sounded oddly like his mother's.  
  
  
**  
  
  
"Harry? HARRY!! Wake up!" Harry's eyes flew open, and he clutched at Ron's arms. "OW! Harry!"  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"It's about time! I've been trying to wake you for ten minutes!" Ron pulled himself free, making Harry wince as light streamed fully into his face. "You were yelling," he added more softly, as Harry clapped his hands over his face and groaned. "Was it...?"  
  
"Bad."  
  
"Nightmare?"  
  
"I wish."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I need a bath," Harry muttered, sitting up. He flopped back down just as quickly. "Okay... that was a bit fast."  
  
"Harry, you're as white as Binns. Stay down, you git! I think I'll go get Mum."  
  
"No!" Harry pushed himself to his elbows. "She'll just worry. It's nothing. I'll be fine."  
  
Ron stared dubiously as Harry pushed himself up from the bed. "Well... alright, Harry, but you do look bloody awful."  
  
"Wish I felt that good," Harry muttered, heading downstairs to the bathroom. He could still feel the slime from wherever he'd been in the dream. Nightmare. Though guessing by his headache, it was a vision. He shivered, set the water to near-scalding, and scrubbed viciously at his skin. Merlin, he hoped it wasn't a vision. The colt had died... abruptly, he remembered Firenze, and his Forbidden Forest detention from first year, when Quirell had been drinking unicorn blood for Voldemort.  
  
"It is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," the centaur had told him then, while taking him back to the school. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime."  
  
But Voldemort was alive. He didn't need to drink it. What on earth was he doing with it, then?  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
"What are these?" Kuwabara asked.  
  
"Charms," Genkai answered. "None of you are fluent in English."  
  
"Oh--!" Keiko gasped. She'd opened the tiny box to find a pair of gold stud earrings. Glancing into Yuusuke's box, she saw he had an identical earring. "Master Genkai, these are too much!"  
  
"Nonsense. They're standard issue for ferrygirls."  
  
"Genkai, I don't have pierced ears..." Yukina murmured.  
  
"These aren't Muggle earrings. You don't need piercings."  
  
"Hiei, you're putting it in the wrong ear," Kurama said.  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, they'll think you're gay," Yuusuke said as his earring clicked into place. "Westerners are weird about that."  
  
"Humans are 'weird' about 'that'," Hiei grumbled.  
  
"We're not supposed to say such things, Hiei," Botan reminded him. "We're all human here. Right?"  
  
"Yes, Hiei. Think human."  
  
Hiei's cold glare diverted to Kurama.  
  
"Speaking of thinking human," Keiko said. "How are we going to explain, well..." Her eyes flicked to Hiei.  
  
"I'm sure no one will suspect Hiei to be anything other than human, Keiko," Kurama said soothingly.  
  
"I didn't... I know that. I meant, all things considered, this is a human high school, right?" Genkai nodded agreement, and Keiko continued. "Well... human high schoolers are terrible gossips. You wouldn't believe some of the stories that went around when Yuusuke came back... but anyways, I'm terribly worried about Yukina."  
  
Hiei's eyes snapped to Keiko. Yukina tilted her head in confusion.  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Most people wouldn't understand how you and Hiei are. It's obvious you care for each other very much," Hiei's eyes narrowed at this, "but they won't understand it's not romantic. And with Kuwabara... I'm worried about your reputation."  
  
"It could also lead to more trouble than we need," Kurama added. "If the other students think Yukina is two-timing Hiei and Kuwabara -- please don't look at me like that, I'm not trying to start a fight -- they'll be less inclined to trust her, and she'll have trouble doing her part of this infiltration. Not to mention what the boys may try if they think she's..." He trailed off, letting the other Tantei fill in the blank, and stared warningly at Hiei, who was literally smoking at the implications.  
  
"That's easy to fix," Yuusuke said easily. "We'll just say they're related." He eyed Hiei speculatively, pretending to not notice that the fire demon was livid, barely restraining himself from leaping for Yuusuke's throat. "How does... hm... brother sound?"  
  
"YUUSUKE!" Several people gasped at his audacity. Genkai glared Kuwabara into silence. Kurama put a restraining hand on Hiei's shoulder. The fire demon had paled, and was carefully not looking at Yukina. Tense silence reigned for several seconds as the group waited for Yukina to process the idea.  
  
"Hiei would make a wonderful brother..." Yukina trailed off.  
  
"But...?" Keiko prompted.  
  
Yukina turned to Hiei. "You won't be able to look for him. While we're in England," she murmured. There was no need to say who she was referring to. Hiei had been looking for her twin brother for her since Yukina had discovered she had one, months ago.  
  
Hiei flinched. "My networks will still be reporting to me," he said gruffly. "I can't personally search with Reikai's barrier in the way."  
  
"Then will you be my brother for the mission?" Yukina asked. "Please?"  
  
"I..." Hiei glowered at Yuusuke for a few more moments. His comment and Yukina's request had put him in an awkward position-- one which he could see no way out of without hurting Yukina's feelings. That was something he catagorically refused to do.  
  
"I don't think I'll be much good at being a brother," he muttered, "But if you want, I will try."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Harry shut off the water sourly and got out. The hot water had done nothing for his headache, though at least he didn't feel like he was covered in nonexistant swamp muck anymore. "Solspec," he muttered, tapping the frames of his glasses (a wizarding pair Sirius had included with his birthday gifts; they had several built-in charms, including auto-focus, an all-purpose Impervius, and this Solspec sunglasses charm). They darkened obediently, and he put them on. It helped a tiny bit. He left the bathroom and was nearly bowled over by the twins as they crashed down towards breakfast.  
  
"Morning, Harry!" the one in the lead called out, making Harry wince.  
  
"What the bloody hell did you drink last night, Harry?" the other asked, somewhat more quietly. "Mum's going to throw a fit."  
  
"Drink?"  
  
"Man, that must be some hangover, if you don't even remember getting sloshed." Harry decided this one must be George. "Come on, we've got a bit of Pepper-Up stashed in our room."  
  
"I'm not hungover," Harry muttered.  
  
Fred pushed Harry's glasses up out of the way, making Harry wince. "Sorry." He gently settled the glasses back in place. "He's not hungover, George." George looked at Fred, Fred looked at George, and they suddenly grabbed Harry by the arms and frog-marched him down the stairs.  
  
"What the--!"  
  
"Mum's going to have kittens. At least if you're downstairs, she'll put you on the couch instead of back in bed."  
  
"And you have a chance of getting something besides chicken soup."  
  
"And seeing somebody besides her, because she can't quarantine the front room."  
  
"I'm not--"  
  
"MUM!" Fred yelled, George's hand clapping over Harry's ear a split second before Fred yelled next to it. "Harry's sick!" They set him down at the kitchen table, backing away quickly as Molly Weasley descended on Harry.  
  
"Look at you, what do you think you're doing up and about looking like this? What do you boys think you're doing bringing Harry down here in his condition?"  
  
"He was already up, Mum--"  
  
"I'm not sick."  
  
"You certainly aren't the picture of health, Harry dear. Fred, see what we have in the pantry, I must have the makings for chicken soup. George, fetch me _Children's Afflictions and the Potions to Treat Them_." The twins looked apologetically at Harry as their predictions played out. Ron had the bad luck to enter the kitchen then. "RONALD WEASLEY! How dare you not fetch me immediately! You should know better! Go check the potions cabinet and see what we have."  
  
"I'm NOT sick!" Harry protested again.  
  
"Hush, dear." She glanced up as the morning post arrived. "Not now-- oh, just leave them on the table." Hedwig hooted in offense. "Stop that, Harry's sick."  
  
"I'm NOT SICK! It's just Voldemort!" Harry finally yelled in frustration. The resulting clatter-- Ron jolting against the potions cabinet and having to steady it, George dropping the book, and a crash in the pantry where Fred was-- barely registered as Molly swept him up into a shockingly strong hug.  
  
"Oh, Harry!" she gasped, dismayed. "That's it, I'm talking to Dumbledore, and don't you even *think* about trying to talk me out of it, Harry Potter!"  
  
"There's nothing you can do," Harry said anyways.  
  
"What did I just tell you?"  
  
"But I don't know what he was doing. It could've just been a dream. It's not worth it to bother Professor Dumbledore with a dream."  
  
"HARRY. It might be nothing, but it might be something. Come along. We'll get on the fire and you'll tell Dumbledore exactly what you saw. Fred, George, fetch that armchair over to the fireplace." Molly settled Harry into the chair, ignited the fire with a flick of her wand, and tossed a handful of glittering powder onto the flames. "Headmaster Dumbledore, please." She scooped up the pile of letters from the table and flipped through them, dropping one into Harry's lap as Dumbledore's face appeared in the fire.  
  
Harry slowly opened the letter as Dumbledore and Molly exchanged pleasantries, his eyes widening when he upended the envelope and a shining prefect's badge fell onto his lap. He looked up at Dumbledore in shock. The old wizard's face turned to him, eyes gentle.  
  
"Well, Harry, I hear you've had a difficult night."  
  
"Headmaster... I... what...?" Harry wasn't quite up to processing this, and held up the badge in wordless accusation.  
  
"Well, Harry, you're a prefect. I thought you'd recognize the badge."  
  
Harry recognized that tone in the headmaster's voice. It said 'That's the way it is, be happy, and, while you may ask questions, I won't answer them in any meaningful way.' He sighed. "Yes, Headmaster."  
  
"Dumbledore, not to be rude, but could keep this short? Harry is in no condition to be out of bed."  
  
"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley."  
  
"No, you aren't, dear."  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said, regaining their attention. "Molly is quite right. If you would, please tell me what happened."  
  
So Harry went through the dream, from appearing in the swamp, to trying to save the unicorn and hitting the barrier.  
  
"And I didn't see what happened then. I think I was waking up." Harry paused. "I heard it scream, though." He wished he hadn't.  
  
"I see," Dumbledore murmured. "Thank you, Harry. This has been most enlightening."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Let Molly see to you, Harry. The worst of the barrier's effects should be over with by now, but you'll remain under the weather for the rest of the day. Molly, if he's not better by tomorrow, do call Madam Pomfrey."  
  
"Yes, Dumbledore."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
"Do we have everybody?" Genkai asked.  
  
Yuusuke glanced around. "No."  
  
"Hiei's in the tree," Kurama corrected him.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Does everybody have their trunks? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven..." Genkai's eyes narrowed. "Hiei, where are your things?"  
  
"Kurama's trunk."  
  
"We'll get you your own in London." Genkai ignored the fire demon's disdainful snort. "Does everybody have their translation charms?"  
  
"Yes," they chorused. Except for Hiei, of course, who glared at the idea that he would forget it.  
  
"Has everyone used the bathroom?"  
  
"Very funny, Genkai."  
  
"Then gather around the trunks. Botan?"  
  
"Yup!" Botan manifested her oar and hopped on it. "Everybody ready? Let's go!"  
  
The group vanished.  
  



	3. Ch. 6-7, Diagon Alley

Ch. 6- Diagon Alley  
  
The security camera panned slowly along a narrow concrete hallway, then back. This hall was almost never used, though it had a pair of tiny restrooms at one end, and so the security guard had gotten out of the habit of watching the monitor displaying that corridor. So when seven trunks and eight people-- most perched on the trunks having a game of cards, though one was on an oar floating several feet off the ground-- appeared out of nowhere, he didn't notice.  
  
Genkai glanced around, then blew a cloud of cigarette smoke up towards the oar. "Where are we?"  
  
"Charing Cross Station, in London," Botan answered, hopping from her oar and making it vanish. As an afterthought, she added, "And the local time is 10 am."  
  
"Ten?!" Kuwabara yelped. "We didn't leave til four in the afternoon!"  
  
"We took three-hour flight across nine time zones," Botan said. "Backwards."  
  
"I hope you took a nap before we left, as I told you to," Genkai added. "We have a long day ahead of us," she said pointedly.  
  
Kuwabara promptly lifted his trunk to his shoulder, then took Yukina's as well. Yuusuke grabbed his and Keiko's in response. Kurama glanced at the three remaining trunks, then at Hiei, whose cold look was easily interpreted as 'let them carry their own shit'. Kurama turned to Genkai and bowed slightly. "Master Genkai, can you shrink those?"  
  
Genkai nodded, eyes on Yuusuke and Kuwabara. "Of course." The pair looked away sheepishly. "If you two would hold those before you? I'm sure you wouldn't want the spell to hit the wrong target." They nearly dropped the luggage in their haste to get it between themselves and Genkai. She neatly shrank each trunk to wallet size one at a time, passed them out to their owners, then led them from the corridor and the station.  
  
"Master Genkai, where are we going?" Keiko asked, after a couple of blocks.  
  
"There." She pointed at a tiny, rundown pub jammed between two far larger, more modern buildings. None of the people passing it seemed to notice it was there. "The Leaky Cauldron."  
  
"Nice place," Kuwabara murmured, visibly edgy.  
  
"Ignore the shabbiness. It's the entrance to the most magical place in London, give or take some of the monuments," Genkai told him. "Good magic and bad. You're picking up on the bad. Focus."  
  
"Sorry, Genkai." They entered the inn, finding themselves in a modest, but clean bar area. Genkai led them through it, past a number of mostly-older people in capes and robes, and to a tiny courtyard in the back empty of all but a battered dustbin. The teens looked at her dubiously.  
  
"So where's this fabulous magical whatever?" Yuusuke asked.  
  
"Patience, Yuusuke." Genkai took out her wand and looked at the brick wall. "Three up, two across..." she counted, tapping the brick. The teens jumped back, startled, as the courtyard was filled with the harsh rasp of stones grinding together. The bricks efficiently, impossibly, folded back in on themselves, becoming an archway between them and a narrow, crowded street.  
  
"It's like looking into the Makai..." Yukina breathed.  
  
"More like into the 14th century," Kurama said.  
  
"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Genkai said dryly, leading them onto the street.  
  
"Have you been here before?" Keiko asked.  
  
Genkai nodded sharply. "Many years ago." She glanced around, smiling faintly. "It hasn't changed a bit." She briskly began pointing out shops they'd need to stop at, places for textbooks, robes, cauldrons, and owls if they wanted them.  
  
"Genkai, look, brooms!" Botan squealed.  
  
"Later, Botan."  
  
Botan paid no attention, craning her head to look over the children crowded around the display window. "Ohhh, what a beauty!"  
  
"It's the new Firebolt Silver," a little boy told her. He looked to be about nine. "They came out with it just last month. Heartwood ash handle, silver birch twigs, all hand-selected for optimum aerodynamics and minimal drag..."  
  
"Really? Wow!" At Genkai's aggravated sigh, Yuusuke and Kurama turned back, took Botan by the arms, and began walking her away from the shop. "Tell me later!" she called to the child. "Genkai--" she whined, when they caught back up.  
  
"Bank first. Then school supplies. Then you can satisfy your curiosity." She strode into a massive, white marble building, easily the largest on the street, forcing the teens to hurry after her. "Gringott's. The wizard's bank."  
  
"Run by goblins, I see," Kurama murmured.  
  
"Goblins aren't exclusive to Makai," Genkai responded. "And don't get any ideas," she said more softly to Kurama and Hiei. "The vaults are deep underground, guarded by curses and dragons, and none of them hold the sorts of interesting things you find in Makai. It's mostly just money."  
  
"Boring," Hiei grumbled.  
  
"No challenge at all," Kurama agreed.  
  
Genkai looked at them searchingly, decided they were honestly uninterested, and gave the group an all-inclusive warning glare. "Stay here. Don't cause trouble." She then went to talk to a goblin teller, and was shortly whisked away.  
  
"Don't cause trouble. Who does she think she's talking to?"  
  
"You, Yuusuke," Botan huffed. "And Kuwabara and Hiei."  
  
"I, the great Kuwabara Kazuma, wouldn't stoop to picking a fight with a little shrimp like him."  
  
"Like you just tried to?" Keiko asked sweetly.  
  
"Er..."  
  
"Be glad he's too busy glaring at the bankers to bother with you."  
  
"Oniisan?" Yukina asked softly. Hiei tensed momentarily, still unused to hearing her call him that. "What is it?"  
  
He indicated the bank employees with his head. "They're watching us."  
  
"They're supposed to, aren't they?"  
  
"Yes... but I don't like it."  
  
"You don't have to, oniisan."  
  
Hiei grunted, eyes focused on the goblins.  
  
Off to the side, Yuusuke was making faces at a particularly watchful, sourfaced, older goblin.  
  
Genkai returned, her hair windblown, with several small, heavy sacks. She distributed them, keeping the largest for herself. "Spending money for the semester," she explained shortly. "Make it last, I won't give you more til December."  
  
Yuusuke took a few of the coins out, peering at them. "Weird..."  
  
"The copper ones are Knuts, the silver are Sickles, and the gold are Galleons. Twenty-nine Knuts equal a Sickle, seventeen Sickles are a Galleon, simple."  
  
"Simple, she says," Yuusuke muttered. Kuwabara already looked poleaxed about the math.  
  
"Yes, very simple. Just don't buy something you have to haggle for." She led them back out onto the street. "And check with me before making any extravagant purchases. Like brooms." She gave Botan a Look as they walked. "Only the Quidditch players need those."  
  
"Quidditch?"  
  
"A popular sport. It's something like basketball on broomsticks, only with cannonballs chasing the players."  
  
Yuusuke's eyes lit up. "Cool!"  
  
"First things first, Yuusuke. You'll learn about Quidditch soon enough. Right now, you need wands." She stopped at the last shop on the street. A small sign over the door read, in peeling gold paint, _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._ A bell over the door chimed softly as Genkai entered, the others crowding in behind her. There was only a tiny, dim waiting area at the front of the store. The remainder of the space was taken up by dusty, crowded shelves, narrow aisles, and piles of slim boxes that apparently couldn't be fit anywhere else. Kuwabara shivered.  
  
"Hey, Kurama, this shop's almost as old as you-- er, Youko," Yuusuke teased, trying to ignore the nearly tangible feel of power lying heavy in the shop.  
  
"He's hardly that old. Besides, this actual store was more likely built in the 15th century or later. It doesn't look Roman or medieval--"  
  
"Ah!" a soft voice interrupted. Several of the teens jumped, as an old, spindly man seemed to materialize out of the darker parts of the store. "Professor Genkai. I wondered when I would be seeing you." His too-pale eyes swept over the rest of the group, stopping on Kurama. "And your students. Oh my. We seem to have a problem..."  
  
"Problem, Ollivander?" Genkai asked sharply.  
  
The old man stepped up to Kurama, taking his chin in skeletal fingers and tilting the redhead's face this way and that, meeting Kurama's calm, shuttered gaze. "A mismatch like this... I can't have a wand for you, oh no. Creative, what you did, no doubt about that. It was a great thing-- incredible, unbelieveable, some would say terrible-- but great. But it has its price, and part of it is that I can't have a wand for you."  
  
Kurama took the wand he'd made from his sleeve. "Will this do?"  
  
"Oh!" Ollivander looked relieved. He carefully took the wand, examining it. "Sino style, rose wood, eight inches... the core is your own hair, I take it?" Kurama nodded. "Good, good. Who made it for you? Blood relative?"  
  
"No, I made it. My father left a kit."  
  
"Even better." Ollivander handed the wand back to Kurama. "Don't let other people use it. That's risky at best, even with a wand designed for those whose souls are original to their bodies, and yours isn't. It just might decide to fire the wrong way if someone else tries to use it." He turned to the others, a tape measure appearing in his hand. "Now that that's settled, let's fit the rest of you for wands. Who's first?"  
  
"I am," Yuusuke said, somewhat belligerently, stepping in front of the others.  
  
"Hold out your wand arm, then," Ollivander replied pleasantly. He began taking measurements, shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, and then more unlikely places such as around Yuusuke's head.  
  
Genkai squeezed past the other teens and beckoned Kurama to lean down. "You're finished here," she told him quietly. "Go outside. It's too crowded in here." She gave him a stern look. "Get an ice-cream or something. We'll meet you at the pet shop... not the owl shop, the other one. And reputation is everything here, so stay out of Knockturn Alley."  
  
Kurama nodded and quietly left.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
"Every wand has a core of a magical substance," Ollivander was informing the students, slipping back among the shelves as the tape measure continued making measurements of Yuusuke on its own. "Here at Ollivander's," his voice rose to carry to the waiting area, "we use unicorn hairs, dragon heartstrings, and phoenix feathers. Just as no two beasts are the same, neither are any two Ollivander's wands. And, of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand, not after one has chosen you. Here!" He re-emerged from the dusty shelves with a slim box and pressed it into Yuusuke's hands. "Oak and phoenix feather, nine inches. Well? Go on, give it a wave."  
  
Yuusuke took the wand from the box, looking extremely skeptical, and wiggled it a bit. The lights flickered, and Ollivander snatched it back immediately.  
  
"Beech and dragon heartstring, seven and a quarter inch." Yuusuke waved this one, and a row of shelves exploded, showering boxes and dust over them.  
  
"Definitely not," Ollivander coughed, waving at the dust. "Try this, apple and phoenix feather, eight inches."  
  
"Look, old man--" Yuusuke began angrily, gesturing with the wand. A blast knocked him off his feet, cutting him off mid-sentence.  
  
"Oh, that will never do!" Ollivander plucked the wand from Yuusuke's hand as the youth leapt to his feet, incensed. "Perhaps you're unicorn hair, despite appearances...? Here, ebony and unicorn hair, ten inches." The new wand leapt from Yuusuke's hand the instant Ollivander passed it over. "Or not. Not to worry, young man, we'll find the wand for you yet!"  
  
"Even if we blow up the shop in the process," Genkai said.  
  
"Happens all the time," Ollivander responded. "There are very good reasons my shop is the last on the street. Here we are, sandalwood and phoenix feather, eight and a half inches. Smells nice, doesn't it? Very spiritual. Go on, try it!"  
  
Yuusuke glanced at the strange little man in annoyance (who cared what a wand smelled like, after all?), and halfheartedly waved the wand. A shower of silvery sparks shot from the tip, filling the room and floating gently towards the floor. Yuusuke blinked down at the wand in surprise.  
  
"An excellent choice, young man," Ollivander said softly. "Who's next?"  
  
"Me!"  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Kurama turned away from the window, chuckling, and began walking back down the street. Poor Mr. Ollivander. He'd probably never had five teenage customers clamoring to be next. Well, four were doing so; Hiei had stood off to the side, watching, and Kurama knew the fire demon was simply waiting for the others to become distracted arguing their turns, at which point he would step up and take the first one.  
  
He glanced into shop windows as he walked. Secondhand robes; he would never set foot in there. A toy shop of some sort; the sign in the window advertised wet-start fireworks, so perhaps it was worth a second look on his way back. Kurama suppressed a sneer at the non-owl pet shop. Cats and the like were all very well, and frogs and lizards had their uses, but the mice and rabbits and such-- he'd been a fox for far too many centuries to consider them pets. They were, as far as he was concerned, lunch, although he doubted he would like the taste in his human body.  
  
Speaking of taste... hadn't Genkai suggested ice cream? The shop was just a few doors down. He boggled for a moment at the sheer number of flavours, before settling on a simple cone of vanilla mint-- which turned out to be creamy white ice cream with flecks of ground vanilla bean and swirls of leaf-green mint running through it. And it wasn't the chemical, colored flavoring Kurama had grown to expect in the human world, but the real thing, enough of the chlorophyll and leaf juices remaining to register on his ki.  
  
Note to self, he thought, buy Hiei a cone later.  
  
He continued on his way, looking at the shop displays and eating his ice cream perhaps a tad quickly and impolitely. A rack of solid gold marbles caught his eye, until one of them shot ink into a customer's face. A sparkle deeper within the same shop drew him, until he stood before a locked cabinet containing a chess set of glossy black stone and bright crystal. It was pretty, and undoubtedly expensive-- not to mention overpriced and easily stolen, of course; his youko side had appraised the true value and offered ten different ways of stealing it in a matter of seconds-- but it didn't appeal. He turned away to browse through the rest of the shop.  
  
Finally, he stopped in front of a Western style tea set-- It had drawn his attention because of the lovely rose design painted delicately on the side of each piece. The sign in front of it proclaimed that it was a 'Stay Hot Tea Set', and Kurama thought that it was the sort of thing that his mother would enjoy. He caught the clerk's attention.  
  
"Sir? How much for this?" The answer was actually reasonably close to his assessment of the value, after accounting for profit markup, but it would take most of the allowance Genkai had given him. Oh well. He didn't need an allowance for-- what was it human students bought again? Candies, manga, posters, though it might be different in this country. Did British wizards have manga? Oh dear... it was going to be very difficult to learn to fit in here--  
  
"Hello, Susan!" Kurama jumped as a boy spoke behind him and to his left. The speaker moved up next to him to look at the tea set. "These're actually quite good," the voice remarked. "Ron's mum has a set. I'm hoping they have one with a less girly design on it, so I can get it for Pro-- an old friend of my parents." Kurama abruptly realized the boy was talking to him. He looked over, sizing up the oblivious, still-talking boy.  
  
Wild, messy black hair, bangs falling haphazardly over a discolored scar and thick glasses. Kurama couldn't tell what color the eyes behind them were. Pale skin-- it looked as though the kid didn't get quite enough sun, or perhaps nutrition either, though Kurama couldn't quite tell past the worn, too-large outfit the boy was wearing. He was shorter than Kurama, though the fox was under average compared to a modern Caucasian teenager, and Kurama guessed he was perhaps a year younger as well. A bagful of packages and a pocket noticeably full of coins-- huh? But the rest of the boy said he was poor!  
  
"He drinks a lot of tea," the boy continued, "'coz he gets cold easi--" he finally glanced up-- oh, green eyes-- right into Kurama's startled face. "OH! Geez, I-- I thought you were one of my classmates." He turned faintly red. "I'm sorry, um..."  
  
"It's all right," Kurama told him, catching the boy's sleeve as he tried to move away. This could be very helpful... er, with a little work, he thought, as the boy flushed more deeply and looked down. He politely let go, holding his hand out to shake. "I'm Kurama," he said, smiling brightly.  
  
"Kur...?"  
  
"-ama. Yes. Mina-- no, ah, Kurama Minamino." It was going to take a while to get used to saying his name the other way around.  
  
"Harry Potter."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Today was the last possible day they could get school supplies. Mrs. Weasley had kept postponing it after Harry's incident with his scar, as he'd not entirely recovered by the next dawn. Harry figured that was because he'd spent the wee hours lying awake, unable to convince himself that he wasn't really going to have another Voldemort nightmare, but Molly had called Madam Pomfrey on the fire anyways. Hogwarts' esteemed nurse had ordered total bed rest, for at least several days, and added that she was to be contacted immediately if Harry had another vision. With such official backing, Harry had been coddled to what seemed a ridiculous extent. It had been a singularly unsettling experience, to say the least.  
  
But finally-- FINALLY-- Mrs. Weasley had relented, and today she was taking him, Ron, the twins, and Ginny to London. They'd stay the night at the Leaky Cauldron and get on the train the next day.  
  
"I'll be fine in the back," Harry was telling Mrs. Weasley. "Let Ginny sit up front." If he got any more special treatment, he'd go nuts. He shoved his trunk into the luggage compartment of the car Percy had picked him up in-- it wasn't a Ministry car after all, though Molly had been more watchful of her husband when he restored this one, which explained its inability to fly or turn invisible-- and closed it. The owl cages went into the backseat, the four boys piling in after, and they were on their way.  
  
The drive was relatively uneventful, if you discounted the way trees, houses, and entire suburbs jumped out of their way, and it was scarcely an hour before Mrs. Weasley parked in a space that conveniently appeared across from The Leaky Cauldron. She herded them into the pub, the Weasley boys loaded down with the trunks and Harry carrying the cages, and had them set it all down next to the stairs.  
  
"Now, I'm going to arrange for our rooms, and then Ginny needs personal things," she informed them, ignoring Ginny's horrified blush. "You boys go on ahead, and I'll meet you at Flourish & Blott's at, oh, one o'clock." That gave them nearly two hours free. "No mischief. No fighting." Her eyes narrowed sternly. "Fred and George, no pranks. None of you spoil your appetite. And do NOT go down Knockturn Alley!"  
  
The four of them murmured (reluctant) agreement and left the pub. As they started down Diagon Alley, Fred put a companionable arm around his twin.  
  
"You know, George, we haven't had a chance to get those yet."  
  
"We haven't, had we," George said amicably.  
  
"Get what?" Harry asked.  
  
"Ron's dress robes!" they chorused.  
  
"What!" Ron sputtered.  
  
"Nice new dress robes for our favorite little brother!"  
  
"I'm your only little brother," Ron protested automatically. "But... how..."  
  
"Never you mind that, Ronniekins," Fred said, earning himself a sour look for the nickname. George grinned at Harry over Ron's shoulder as Fred continued, "Suffice it to say that we obtained the money legally, and are replacing your robes out of the kindness of our hearts."  
  
That got a disbelieving snort out of Ron.  
  
"I'm hurt. Our own baby brother doesn't believe us!" Fred mourned.  
  
 _"I_ don't believe that load of rubbish," George scoffed. He turned to Ron. "This is pure self-preservation here, plain and simple. The mold on those robes is making us sneeze."  
  
"Now that, I'll believe," Ron muttered as the twins steered him towards Madam Malkin's. He twisted his head around as Harry started to follow. "Hey, Harry, go see if they've got anything new at Quality Quidditch Supplies, and tell me about it? We'll still be at the fitting... dress robes take forever."  
  
"Sure."  
  
One whirlwind ride through Gringott's later, Harry had a smallish sackful of money for the first term, and remembered an errand he had to run. Remus Lupin's birthday was coming up-- 'just because there's a war on is no reason to skip a friend's birthday, but the man is impossible to shop for', Sirius had whined in his last letter -- but Harry had thought of something during his recent incarceration in bed. Mrs. Weasley was apparently one of those mothers who believed in keeping up a sick child's fluid intake, and had used her own teacups for the broths and teas she took up to Harry. The cups were enchanted to keep liquids hot and fresh no matter how long Harry let it sit. He thought that would be a nice gift for Remus, if he could find a set with a pattern other than daisies.  
  
He squeezed into the packed shop, careful not to get too close to the gold Gobstones, edging around customers as he looked for tea sets. He caught a glimpse of a thick, vibrant red ponytail; one of the Hufflepuffs Hermione talked girl stuff with, what was her name...? She moved slightly to the side, signaling the clerk, and he caught sight of teacups. He moved up beside her.  
  
"Hello, Susan!" he said. She was a bit high-strung, easily startled. He didn't want her to turn around, suddenly trip over him or something, and break the sets. "These're actually quite good." They were. If she was considering buying them. "Ron's mum has a set. I'm hoping they have one with a less girly design on it, so I can get it for Pro-- an old friend of my parents. He drinks a lot of tea 'coz he gets cold easi--" Harry glanced up... right into the face of a very stunned-looking boy. "OH! Geez, I-- I thought you were one of my classmates." Not only that, but a female classmate. "I'm sorry, um..." This was so embarrassing. He tried to melt back into the crowd, but the boy caught at his sleeve.  
  
"It's all right," he said. He kind of sounded like a girl, too. Harry felt his face heat up more, and hoped the boy wasn't going to call him on his mistake. The redhead let go and held his hand out, smiling brightly. "I'm Kurama."  
  
"Kur...?" He'd heard some strange names since he found out he was a wizard, but most of them were based on recognizable words or names.  Or astronomy, but he'd never heard of a Kurama star or constellation in class.  
  
"--ama. Mina..." Kurama caught himself. "No, ah, Kurama Minamino."  
  
Okay... why had he stumbled over his own name? "Harry Potter."  
  
"Pleasure to meet you." Kurama turned back to the display, carefully moving the china to look at the boxes underneath. "There should be other patterns here..."  
  
Harry was thrown. Kurama hadn't noticed his name? Or had he not heard it? "Hello. My name is Harry."  
  
Kurama gave him a strange look, smiling again to take the sting out of his words. "Yes, I heard the first time." He signaled the shopkeeper. "Could you box this up for me?" The man took the rose set, and Kurama began taking out the unopened boxes. "As long as I'm in your way, I may as well help."  
  
"Um..." Harry was both thrilled and confused that Kurama didn't seem to recognize his name. "Thanks?"  
  
"No problem." Kurama pressed one box into Harry's hands and kept looking. "You said a less girly pattern, you mean one without flowers?"  
  
"Er..." Harry abruptly realized there was a subtle pattern of vines with tiny blossoms in the weave of Kurama's tunic. Oops.  
  
"That one's a simple stripe pattern," Kurama told him, pointing at the box he'd given Harry. There was nothing in his voice to say he'd taken offense, or even noticed. "The rest of these are flowery," he concluded, replacing the boxes. He stood up, brushing tiny wrinkles and a bit of dirt from his trousers.  
  
"Um, thanks." Harry felt like a skipping record, but what was he supposed to say?  
  
"Hey, I was wondering..." Kurama said as he counted out his money and paid. Harry tensed, expecting the celebrity stuff to come up now. "Are there any places here that I shouldn't miss?" Or not. "It's my first time in England."  
  
Huh? "Well, if we were in Hogsmeade, I'd say Honeydukes... but we're not."  
  
"What's Hogsmeade?"  
  
"Wizarding village. Only one in Britain. But it's up in Scotland." Harry replied, thinking. "Are you asking about wizard or muggle sights?"  
  
"Wizard. The rest of Britain has tourbooks."  
  
"Good point." Harry considered this for a bit, as he paid. "Well... a lot of wizard 'sights' are mentioned in Muggle guidebooks as legends." Hermione had made her parents take her to as many of them as possible between first and second year, the summer a house-elf was blocking Harry's mail. "The Tower of London is full of ghosts and wizarding artifacts. I think there are a few wizard shops scattered around the country, too, but pretty much everything is clustered here or in Hogsmeade." As he and Kurama left the shop, Harry paused, then blurted, "I could show you around some." Kurama looked startled. "My friends are getting robes; I don't have to be there for a bit." And it was so bloody good to talk to someone who didn't know who he was for a change.  
  
"If it's not a problem," Kurama said slowly, "I do have time before I have to meet back with my group, too."  
  
"Cool." Harry gestured down the street. "I was going to browse at the Quidditch shop. Do you like Quidditch?"  
  
"I don't know much about Quidditch," Kurama admitted.  
  
"You don't?! It's a great game!"  
  
"I've heard it's like basketball on broomsticks, only with cannonballs chasing the players?"  
  
"Well... it's a bit more complicated than that..." And Harry began explaining all about Quidditch.  
  
  
  
Ch. 7  
  
  
"Don't look so glum, Yuusuke," Botan soothed.  
  
"But my girlfriend's wand is bigger than mine!"  
  
"But it's not the size that counts."  
  
He glared. Easy for her to say! Her rowan-phoenix wand was a full 10 inches, as large as Kuwabara's mulberry-unicorn. Not to mention her comment hadn't helped matters. Kuwabara was vainly trying to suppress snickers.  
  
"It's not funny, man!"  
  
"Stop whining, Yuusuke," Genkai snapped.  
  
Hiei ignored the others, outwardly bored. Inwardly, though, he was listening to Ollivander's words as they echoed through his memory.  
  
 _My, my, my... I know exactly which ones to give you. Here. African ebony for Mr. Jaganshi, Norwegian pine for Miss Koorime, unicorn hair and seven inches each. Do give them a wave. Soft light, a mix of midsummer sunset and full moonlight on snow, had filled the room like mist. Yes, I knew there could be no mistake. The unicorn whose hair powers both-- yes, both-- of your wands, she was a beautiful creature. I was quite surprised when they chose such different shells, but now I see... yes, I see how right they were..._  
  
No mistake? Gods, what a mess. It was skirting dangerous territory already, allowing Yukina to pretend they were siblings for the damn mission. Did that old geezer have to tell them they had twin wand cores?  
  
He subconsciously noted their entry into the pet shop-- awareness of one's surroundings was a must for survival in Makai, and Hiei was nothing if not a survivor-- but didn't care. He certainly wasn't going to get a pet. Some furry or scaly crawly thing that would demand his food and attention? Forget it! The fox did that already... well, not the food part, but Kurama was a bit overly fond of attention sometimes. Hiei turned his attention to the others.  
  
Yuusuke and Kuwabara had set to exploring the shop enthusiatically, laughing over a cage of dancing rats. They weren't actually getting pets either; Yuusuke's penguin-phoenix-thing (Hiei didn't know or care what the Reikai bird was, besides annoying), Puu, and Kuwabara's cat, Eikichi, were with Genkai, who knows where but she assured them they were comfortable and safe. Yukina was examining a large, solemn-faced turtle with a jeweled shell, stroking its head gently. Botan had found a cage of ravens and seemed to be listening to their harsh squawking. Keiko was cooing, of all things, into a terrarium of yellowish furrballs.  
  
Hiei's eyes snapped wide at a light tug on the hem of his coat. He looked down, only to see a tiny black puff of a kitten standing on its hind legs, front claws digging into the heavy cloth. It stared up at him with wide, jade-green eyes, and mewed squeakily.  
  
"Oh, how cute!" Yukina was suddenly gazing at him... no, at the cat. He couldn't kick it away with her watching. He glared in silent outrage as the kitten began climbing his coat. The nerve of the little beast...! It stopped at his hip, claws snagging into thick silk, and mewed again, somehow more pleadingly, as if it... He glared. As if it knew it would fall if it tried to catch onto Hiei's sleeves, and knew Yukina was watching.  
  
Dammit.  
  
He uncrossed his arms and gently unhooked the kitten from his clothing, holding it up to look it in the face. The eyes weren't green, he realized, but changing from newborn blue to a shade of yellow. It reached out with a tiny paw and mewed into his face with milk-scented breath.  
  
"I think it likes you, Oniisan!"  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Why don't you get it?"  
  
"It's not old enough to be taken from its mother," he said coldly.  
  
"Actually, she is." Hiei stiffened, instinctively pulling his hands, and therefore the cat, closer to himself. The woman behind the counter shouldn't have been able to hear him. The witch continued, "She's just old enough this week."  
  
Yukina giggled as the kitten pulled itself free, scrambled up to perch on Hiei's shoulder, and began pawing at his scarf. He scowled at the kitten, but made no move to stop her from burrowing securely under the fabric. She mewed again, loudly, making him wince since she was right next to his ear, then licked his jaw with a tiny, raspy tongue and settled in, purring.  
  
"I don't think she'll let you leave without her, dearie," the shopkeeper told him, not hiding her amusement. He glowered at her.  
  
"Don't you like her too, Oniisan?" Yukina asked sadly. "She loves you."  
  
"She wanted someplace warm to sleep," he corrected.  
  
"Her mother and littermates are warm, and so are the other customers," Yukina replied. "She picked you."  
  
Hiei stared narrowly at Yukina, who matched him with a warm, hopeful gaze of her own. "Then she has bad taste," he bit out.  
  
"No, Oniisan. She has very good taste. She picked you."  
  
Hiei looked away, furious. He hated it when Yukina said things like that. It always hit harder than a punch to the gut. His stricken eyes flicked to the shopkeeper.  
  
"I'm not bottle-feeding her," he snapped.  
  
"Of course you aren't, dearie," the shopwitch replied. "The price includes kitten food, and a litterbox if you're keeping her indoors." She walked briskly back to the counter, robes swirling in her wake, and after five minutes of detailed instructions and an exchange of Sickles, Hiei was nearly stumbling out of the shop, the stunned owner of a very young cat.  
  
Yukina followed him out. Hiei reached up to adjust his scarf, perhaps try to pry the kitten out of it, and blinked as his sister caught his hand.  
  
"No, no, don't do that," she said, her fingers curving his loosely inwards. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You'll frighten her if you come at her with your fingers straight out like that." Hiei watched, bemused, as Yukina guided his hand to pet the kitten. "Like this."  
  
To Hiei's surprise, the fur under his fingers was soft, weightless fluff, nothing like the thick masses Kurama wore in his fox form. He barely noticed as Yukina's hand slipped away, continuing to stroke the kitten as the gentle girl moved to stand next to him and watch the crowd. This was... not so bad. Perhaps he could leave the cat alone. She wasn't in his way, exactly, on his shoulder like this. He'd just have to be slightly more careful about throwing the scarf off if he was attacked. He could do that.  
  
He jumped when the shop's door burst open again behind him and Keiko stormed huffily out onto the street, a vibrant green frog held incongruously gently in her hand. Yuusuke and Kuwabara followed in her wake, visibly confused, with a beaming Botan behind them.  
  
"Keiko? What happened?"  
  
"Yuusuke bought me a frog," Keiko fumed, displaying the animal. It was surprisingly round for a frog, with big bulging eyes, fat limbs, and a mouth that looked to be somehow smiling.  
  
"But you like frogs!" Yuusuke tried to explain.  
  
"Since when?"  
  
"Since forever! Since that Keropi thing came on TV!"  
  
Keiko froze, her eyes widening. "Yuusuke, you are an idiot," she said slowly. She suddenly spun on him. "But I suppose Keropi-chan will be easier to take care of than a cat or an owl," she sniffed, "If he had a terrarium."  
  
"You won't need one, Keiko," Genkai said irritably. "He's a wizarding frog and small enough to keep in your pockets." She ground out her cigarette and glowered down the street. "Where is that boy?"  
  
Hiei rolled his eyes and loosened his head scarf a bit. :: _Move your tails, fox,:_ : he projected mentally. : _:We're waiting_.::  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
"I know that move!" Kurama said.  
  
"Hm?" Harry peered at the poster Kurama was pointing to. A small woman in deep green flying robes looped and sped towards the ground, pulling up at the last second. "Oh. That's a Wronski Feint. It's a Seeker's move."  
  
"Have you ever done it?"  
  
"Not in a game." Harry had let it slip that he played that position. "I thought you didn't know anything about Quidditch."  
  
"I didn't. One of my friends did something like it a couple of months ago. She thought it was fun, but Ke--" Kurama broke off abruptly, green eyes widening faintly. "Um, Harry?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"Twenty to one. Why?"  
  
"I'm late!" Kurama snatched up his shopping bag, half-turned, then turned back and bowed slightly. "I'm terribly sorry," he said.  
  
"It's all right. Go on." Harry tried not to sound disappointed, but it had been nice to be treated like a normal person for once. If he ever met Kurama again, the other boy would probably know all the Boy-Who-Lived hype.  
  
"See you around!" Kurama called as he hurried from the shop.  
  
"Yeah." Like that would really happen. Kurama lived in Japan, and Harry would be at Hogwarts for the remainder of the boy's trip. Harry slowly gathered up his things and returned to the street, watching the redhead disappear into the crowd before edging around the cluster of broom-mad children at the shop window and heading for Madam Malkin's, where another set of redheads waited.  
  
"Harry, what took you? We got the whole fitting done." Ron held up a shopping bag.  
  
"Sorry. I lost track of the time." They followed the twins into Flourish & Blott's. "The new Firebolt's out. It's called the Silver--" He bumped into Fred, not noticing that the twins had abruptly stopped and were staring at something.  
  
"Bloody hell!" Ron said weakly.  
  
"What?" Harry looked past Fred, and his eyes went wide. A massive stack of the largest, thickest books Harry had ever seen was piled in a display. Each leather-bound monstrosity looked to weigh twenty pounds, easily. One was set to display the front cover and the title branded deeply upon it.  
  
" _A Complete Prehistory of the Universe, Abridged_." George read the title aloud. "It's on our book list."  
  
"And ours," Harry said. "I bet Hermione's thrilled." Ron stared at him incredulously. Harry took the top book from the pile, wobbling and catching his balance as he said, "It's not as bad as it looks."  
  
"It's worse," Ron moaned. "Whoever's teaching with this has to be a sadist! We're doomed!"  
  
The twins took up books as well. Fred grimaced at the weight, and glanced at George. "What do you think?"  
  
"Free sample."  
  
"Test market."  
  
"Pupper-up pops?"  
  
"I thought we were going to call them something else."  
  
"We haven't thought of anything better yet."  
  
As the twins squabbled, Harry leaned over to Ron. "Pupper-up pops?"  
  
"I'm not sure. They've been hiding everything from Mum better this summer. I think they're supposed to give people dog ears."  
  
A hand clapped down on Ron's shoulder. "Oh, they are, are they?"  
  
"Mum!" Ron yelped.  
  
"Mum!" the twins echoed.  
  
Molly Weasley glared at her older sons. "I will be searching your room later," she promised, before glancing past them. "Well. I see you've found the new Defense books. Goodness, they're large..." she trailed off, then perked. "It's nice to see that this year's professor is as serious about the subject as Remus was. I do hope he or she is less of a risk..." The four of them turned furious eyes on her. "Stop that," she scolded. "We aren't having this argument again." She took up a copy of the book for Ginny, and herded them all through the line to pay.  
  
Back on the street, their books packed into a single bag with a weight-reducing carryall charm on it (free with every copy of A Complete Prehistory of the Universe, Abridged), Molly turned to look the teens over. "Who's hungry?"  
  
"Is that a rhetorical question?"  
  
"Well, dears, we were able to get some wonderful deals today, so I think we can splurge on lunch at the Cauldron." That announcement recieved grins, and the twins created a two-man stampede in the direction of the pub. "Fred! George! Slow down!"  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Kurama slipped easily through the crowds of Diagon Alley, deceptively calm, if in a bit of a hurry. Inwardly, he was Not Happy. Why on earth had Hiei risked telepathy among wizards, just to tell Kurama he was late? He could feel the dark magic hanging like mist between two of the buildings he passed, feel the weight of Dark artifacts and users farther back along what must've been Knockturn Alley. Hiei's mind could have been tapped by any of them. He could have been attacked, or controlled, or revealed, or any one of hundreds of things, and the fire demon had to have known that!  
  
The redhead stepped from the crowd, into the circle of his waiting friends.  
  
"Kurama, welcome back--" Botan began.  
  
He sidestepped the girl and stopped in front of Hiei, staring down into the shorter demon's two unhidden eyes. Hiei returned his gaze, unruffled and silent.  
  
"What were you doing, Hiei?" he asked softly. He watched the other demon's pupils dilate, the only outward sign that Hiei had abruptly realized that Kurama was upset. _Excellent muscle control, Hiei_ , Kurama thought, noting that the smaller demon hadn't even tensed, _but your eyes have always betrayed the truth to me._ Right now, they were screaming embarrassment, shame, wariness, but no real fear. Good. It had taken a lot of hard work to get Hiei to understand that Kurama -- Youko, actually -- wouldn't harm anyone he'd laid claim to, unless they betrayed him. Of course, it had taken a lot more hard work to keep Hiei from thinking that Kurama somehow thought he owned the fiercely independent fire demon...  
  
Kuwabara cleared his throat. Kurama abruptly realized that he and Hiei had been staring at each other for several minutes, and were starting to broadcast hostility. Figures that Kuwabara would be the first to pick up on it. He didn't look away from Hiei as he waited for the rest of them to pick up on it.  
  
Botan did first, and coughed. "I, uh, I'm supposed to get an owl! Right! To, uh, keep in touch back home! That's it!" She tugged at Keiko's arm. "Come help me pick one! Please!" Her eyes darted back and forth from Kurama and Hiei, to the safer area of the street.  
  
"Okay..." Keiko murmured, confused. She snagged Yuusuke. "Come on."  
  
"What? Where are we going?" Yuusuke asked, trying to avoid making Keiko angry at him. She was scary when she was mad.  
  
"Owl shop! Yes, yes, must get owls... wonderful birds, very useful, have to get one so we can keep everyone back home up to date..." Botan forced a giggle, and sped the group off.  
  
Finally, they were gone, and Kurama sighed. "You could have been caught by akui," he murmured sadly, using the Japanese word for malice; it was also a youkai word for some types of Dark magic.  
  
"By ningen?" Hiei scoffed, offended.  
  
"Yes," Kurama replied, simply.  
  
Hiei growled at him. "Give me a little more credit than that."  
  
"Sorry." Hiei would know better than anyone about hiding his use of the Jagan. He'd done it for years in the wilds of Makai, after all. But... "You aren't being complacent because they're only ningen?" Hiei shot him a withering look. "Of course not," Kurama answered his own question.  
  
"You know as well as I do what such idiocy gets you back home," Hiei snapped.  
  
"I do." Pride was one thing in Makai; youkai without it tended to stay near the bottom of the food chain, since they rarely fought as hard to better themselves. Conceit to the extent of incaution, though, merely led to a quick and messy death. "But I worry."  
  
Hiei snorted. "You're stupid."  
  
Kurama shrugged. He'd said too much already. He changed the subject. "Shall we go buy your trunk?"  
  
"Trunk," Hiei said flatly.  
  
"Yes. You know, the big leather-covered box that people put their things in when they travel?" Kurama teased. "You still need one."  
  
"I don't."  
  
"You have too much to fit into mine. And what if we're put in different Houses?"  
  
"Don't be an idiot. We both fit only one of them."  
  
"Oh, I don't know. I could be a Ravenclaw..." Kurama trailed off, smiling sweetly when Hiei rolled his eyes.  
  
"Vain fox."  
  
"Sourpuss. At least look at what's available?" Hiei snorted, but allowed Kurama to lead him to the nearby luggage store. The redhead wasted no time. "Here's a nice, sensible one; brown leather, brass metalwork--"  
  
"Cheap horsehide and cheaper locks. You could open those things with a twig." Although, considering Kurama's magic was with plants, that wasn't the best example. " _I_ could open those things with a twig," he amended.  
  
Kurama grinned. He'd already known that, but now they wouldn't leave the store until Hiei had found something that lived up to his exacting standards. Sometimes the little fire demon was so predictable. He moved on to another trunk, this one with gleaming silver trim that he bet Hiei would reject as too visible.  
  
"Too visible," Hiei grumbled.  
  
Finally, they left the luggage shop, Hiei carrying a trunk of black dragonhide over one shoulder -- his left shoulder, so it didn't harm the kitten peeping out from inside his scarf. His name was etched into a plate of rough, unreflective iron, which matched the rest of the metalwork on the trunk, and the locks almost passed Hiei's lowest standards. He wasn't going to store anything but his wizard robes and schoolbooks in it, though, so it didn't matter that the locks were nearly worthless.  
  
They walked back down the alley, towards the Leaky Cauldron, and found the rest of the group outside the owl shop. Botan held up a cage with a screech owl.  
  
"Isn't she lovely? I'm going to call her Nakiri!"  
  
"Quite," Kurama murmured. Hiei ducked past the cage with a glare. "I'm sure Hiei thinks so, as well. Will Nakiri be able to take the post all the way home?" He knew Botan wouldn't be sending letters to Japan.  
  
"She's bred to have a longer range than most owls," Botan answered cheerfully. Message recieved. The owl could travel to Reikai.  
  
"What is that?" Hiei asked, not particularly harshly.  
  
Yukina had a smaller cage. "This is Suppi," she murmured. The tiny owl inside fluffed its pale gray feathers and hooted softly. Hiei examined the bird distrustfully. "Do you like her, Oniisan?"  
  
Hiei was silent for a few moments. "She'll do." Yukina beamed at him. "Just keep her away from the cat."  
  
"I think she'd do more damage to your kitten than she'd get," Yuusuke said.  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"If you're all finished wasting time," Genkai snapped, "I'd like to get to the hotel and get some sleep before the train leaves tomorrow."  
  
"Didn't you take a nap before we left, old hag?" Yuusuke asked.  
  
"YUUSUKE!"  
  
"Have you learned nothing, boy?" Genkai snapped. "Be thankful for every moment of sleep I allow you. Or do you not remember traveling to the Tournament last year?"  
  
"Er, actually, I don't..."  
  
"That's because you passed out before the boat docked, Yuusuke, and you didn't wake up until the first round was almost over," Kurama said, smiling.  
  
"Oh, yeah..."  
  
"Oh yeah, he says," Kuwabara grumbled. "I had to haul your ass all over the island, AND you made me lose my bout!"  
  
"You lost your bout all by yourself, Kuwabara. You wasted the count."  
  
"Teme! How would you know?!"  
  
"It was on the TV later. Can't believe you went up against a kid."  
  
"Today, children, or I will have you both up and training before dawn for a week!"  
  
Yuusuke and Kuwabara squeaked. "Yes, Genkai!"  
  
"That's Professor to you."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Harry dreamed. He stood facing a many-paned window, most of the panes broken or missing altogether. What little glass remained was crusted with dirt. Turning, he found he was standing on the inside of whatever house this window belonged to. A weak fire burned in a fireplace on the side wall, mixing with the fading twilight to provide just enough illumination to see the furniture within the room.  
  
"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, his eyes on Voldemort. "Killed me, that one did... You fight him, boy..."  
  
Harry took in a sharp breath at the flash of memory. The old Muggle man from Voldemort's wand, just a few weeks ago-- he'd been killed here, Harry had seen him killed here over a year ago... at... at... the Riddle mansion, that was it. Voldemort's ancestral home. What on earth was he doing here?  
  
At least the armchair near the fire was empty this time. He really didn't want to see the half-formed creature Voldemort had been for so many years. Not that he wanted to see Voldemort at all, especially considering the man was back to his full power again, but, well... ew.  
  
A soft rustling from the hallway caught his attention. He instinctively stepped closer to the door (was he mad?), and heard soft... laughter? It certainly wasn't nice laughter... and there were words mixed in it.  
  
"... traitorous man-scum... perhaps I can convince the Master to let me bite him before the fun begins! The pain-curse is so much more fun with my venom keeping the toy lucid..."  
  
Harry paled, darting through the door -- literally through it, he seemed to be about as substantial as any ghost-- and following the malicious laughter down the hall. He almost hadn't noticed the hissing overlaying the words, but it couldn't be anyone but Voldemort's snake, Nagini.  
  
Nagini's voice, talking softly about tortures that Harry could've lived the rest of his life not knowing about, led him through several more corridors and down a flight of stairs, to the remains of a two-story ballroom. Near the center of the dance floor, a broken circle of robed, masked figures stood, silent. Harry counted the gaps, remembering them from the Third Task: three unnamed, dead in Voldemort's service; two more, the Lestranges, in Azkaban; one faithful, that was Barty Crouch Jr.; one coward in hiding, Karkaroff; and... the last gap was filled.  
  
"Ah, we are all here," Voldemort said, smiling as Nagini slithered into the ballroom, snickering with glee. The snake began to slowly circle the masked Death Eaters, hissing taunts as Voldemort named each one.  
  
"Avery... you haven't begged forgiveness yet this meeting." ("Forgiveness!" Nagini laughed. "Never forgive, never forget, man-fools never learn...")  
  
"Pettigrew..." ("Rat-man, silver-hand, first on my dinner plate after Master wins...") Voldemort continued around the circle, Nagini continuing her comments. ("Backstabber, pretty words and pretty money; must learn his place! Devout, lovely, loyal madmen... Dangerous beasts are no fun... What is a Lord without lackeys? Sniveling peon.") Finally, Voldemort reached the largest gap.  
  
"My four dead..." he said mournfully. (Most faithful, most trustworthy, most useless, the dead...) "The coward..." (Fool!) "And, of course, my dear Potions Master..." (Traitor! Spy! Toy! Let me bite him!) "Calm yourself, Nagini," Voldemort said soothingly. "All in good time. Severus?"  
  
"Yes, Master?"  
  
"The years have addled your wits, Severus," Voldemort told the masked man. Snape visibly tensed under his Death Eater robes. "Do you really think that I would tolerate your questionable allegiance once more? Oh yes, Severus, I knew the instant you broke your oaths." He paused, leaning closer to the man. "I let you live, though. I allowed you to take meager scraps of information back to that Mudblood-lover--" (Foolish pest, protector of scum!) "-- Dumbledore. After all, your potions were far too valuable to my research into Death. But now... I have beaten it, Severus, so your usefulness is at an end." He used the tip of his wand to gently lift the mask away, and let it drift to the floor. "I live, Severus," he murmured, staring into the too-pale face of Harry's teacher. "And you... won't. Crucio."  
  
Severus Snape crumpled silently to the floor.  
  
Voldemort's face twisted with outrage, and suddenly Harry's surroundings were falling away from him. He tried to grasp at the image, to find out what had gone wrong -- for surely something had, Voldemort's expression had told Harry so, and thank Merlin his plans had gone awry somehow -- but the dream was slipping from his grasp, spiraling away into darkness.  
  
Harry snapped awake with a gasp.  
  
"Nngh... 'Arry? Wha's wrong?" Ron asked sleepily from the next bed.  
  
"Nothing," Harry answered automatically. What time was it? Only... one in the morning? "Go back to sleep."  
  



	4. The Hogwarts Express

  
"Okay, this says the train leaves at eleven o'clock, from Platform Nine and Three Quarters." Keiko paused. "That can't be right."  
  
Kurama checked his own letter. "I don't think it's a mistake." He smiled. "I once knew someone who lived on floor thirty and a third of a tower in Makai. You could only get to his suite if you jumped over five stairs on the twenty-third floor."  
  
"How do we get to Platform 'and three quarters', then?" she asked. "Genkai?"  
  
The little woman scowled. "I'm looking. There are charms and wards all over the blasted station, messing things up... how many do they think they need to hide one platform? Paranoid idiots..."  
  
"You said you'd been here before!" Yuusuke interrupted Genkai's grumbling.  
  
"I said I'd been to Diagon Alley! Did you think I studied at the school?" She glared up at him. "Well?"  
  
"Er..."  
  
"Found it," Hiei said flatly. He tapped a knuckle against the corner of a brick column between platforms nine and ten. "There's a gate here. This side is an illusion."  
  
Kurama relaxed. "Then we should be able to walk right through."  
  
Hiei nodded curtly, then glanced at the others. "Ignore the brick," he instructed. "Close your eyes if you have to." He then wheeled his cart around, shoved, and vanished into the pillar.  
  
"This is too much like last summer," Kuwabara muttered, wincing as Yuusuke jogged through, following Hiei. "Walking through solid walls, it's like he's a ghost!" The word 'again' hung unspoken in the air.  
  
"It's not solid," Botan told him, as Yukina hurried through. Kurama aimed his cart at the weathered bricks.  
  
"It sure looks solid."  
  
"Quit looking at it with your eyes and ge--"  
  
Kurama ran through the barrier, cutting off Genkai's tirade, along with the rest of the train station's noise. A split second later, he emerged from the far side, into the notably reduced noise of a far smaller crowd. Kurama pulled his trolley out of the way of the portal, looking around as he joined the others.  
  
It seemed the pillar had led into a pocket dimension, hidden between the ninth and tenth platforms of the Muggle station. The pocket was just large enough for a single platform and one train: an old-fashioned steam engine painted bright red. Kurama privately thought the paint was a bit gaudy, but the overall effect was charming, in a Western storybook sort of way.  
  
He vaguely noted the arrival of Keiko, Botan, Kuwabara, and finally Genkai, who lightly tapped Kuwabara's arm and informed him that he'd earned himself an extra week of meditative training for his behavior at the barrier.  
  
"I what?!"  
  
"Your ESP is fluctuating. You need to learn to manage it, even in this... this tangled mess of spellcasting," Genkai snarled. Kurama understood why she was irritated; he hadn't actually been able to see the spells that had been filling the Muggle station, the way Hiei, Genkai, and probably Kuwabara could, but he could tell the old woman wasn't exaggerating about their state. He'd been able to feel the tattered remnants of magic dating back decades, if not centuries, underlying and diminishing the effects of the most recent spells, like rust in a car engine. The whole station could use a thorough magical scrubbing, but that wasn't likely to happen unless someone came up with a way to make it cheap, or someone influential enough complained.  
  
"Go to the last car," Genkai continued. "It should have the most empty compartments."  
  
It turned out that the last car had exactly one empty compartment, which the tantei promptly claimed as their own. As the train pulled out of the station and they began to settle down, though, they discovered a drawback to the train compartments.  
  
Each compartment had space for six people. Six small people. Fortunately, they were all, with the exception of Kuwabara, smaller than average Westerners. Hiei, Yukina, and Genkai were downright tiny. But there were still eight of them.  
  
Kurama forestalled any argument about the seating by simply getting between Hiei and Kuwabara and urging the demon out into the corridor before him. "We'll find someplace quieter to sit," he announced. With Yuusuke and Kuwabara in the same compartment, just about any other seat on the train would probably be quieter.  
  
"Hold it," Genkai said quickly, catching Hiei's sleeve.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I meant to do this earlier... yesterday, in fact. _Oculi fulvus imbuite_." She tapped her wand between Hiei's eyes. "Remind me to teach you this charm later."  
  
Hiei glared at her, then up at Kurama. The redhead blinked, then peered more closely into Hiei's eyes. Hiei leaned away. "What are you doing? What did she do?" he snarled.  
  
"I preferred the red," Kurama told Genkai coolly.  
  
"Tough," she replied. "We were lucky no one looked too closely at Hiei or Yukina yesterday. We could've caused a panic, or blown our cover." She firmly shut the door of the compartment, effectively ending the conversation.  
  
"Fox--" Hiei began, frowning.  
  
"Kurama. You need to call me Kurama, Hiei." He smiled. "And she turned your eyes black, that's all."  
  
"She WHAT?"  
  
"Well, it's a very dark brown if you look closely. You can see for yourself later." Kurama paused. "We should've remembered earlier. Red eyes are demonic." He shot Hiei a silencing glance. "And Western wizards are prejudiced. I doubt you want Yukina to be attacked by a fanatic teenage wizard under the impression that she's a homicidal demon. Or related to one." Hiei scowled. "I thought not. Shall we?" He gestured towards the front of the train.  
  
The two of them slowly made their way down the empty corridor, Hiei trailing behind Kurama. The redhead glanced into the compartments as they passed, finding they all held five or six students, most of whom gave them only cursory looks as they passed.  
  
"This is ridiculous," Hiei muttered, between cars.  
  
"I know, Hiei." He'd counted exactly three students in the entire car who had given them a second look. None had seemed to realize they might not be students, despite the fact that they were too old to be new first-years. "But they'll learn."  
  
The next car seemed a bit emptier. Hiei took point this time, passing the cabins more quickly. Kurama looked into each to see what Hiei found unacceptable about each one. Five people, five people, six people, four people playing a rowdy game, five people...  
  
"Found one."  
  
Kurama peered in over Hiei's shoulder, and grinned, seeing a familiar face. "Fancy meeting you here."  
  
"Kurama?!"  
  
"Hi, Harry." He put a hand on Hiei's shoulder. "Mind if we join you? Our compartment's full."  
  
Harry exchanged a look with the two people sitting across from him. "Sure," he said. Kurama slid past Hiei and sat next to Harry, giving Hiei the seat farthest from the humans. Harry began introductions. "These are my friends, Hermione Granger," the bushy-haired girl nodded politely, "and Ron Weasley." The freckled, redheaded boy quirked a smile. "Guys, this is Kurama Minamino..."  
  
"And Hiei Jaganshi." Kurama supplied. He leaned forward a bit in a seated half-bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you." Hiei made a quiet sound that could possibly be agreement, but could just as well be disdain, giving the three a measuring look. "Please excuse Hiei," Kurama added. "He's shy."  
  
Hiei glared sharply at him. Kurama ignored it.  
  
"How do you know each other?" Ron asked abruptly. "Harry's never mentioned you."  
  
Kurama chuckled. "He mistook me for someone he knows yesterday in a shop, and started talking to me. I then made the mistake of letting him know I didn't know much about Quidditch, and, well..." He shrugged. "I must've forgotten to mention I was going to be starting at Hogwarts."  
  
"You said you were on vacation," Harry mumbled.  
  
"Oh, I am!" Kurama assured him. "We're on a study abroad trip." Ron groaned aloud. "What? Living in a castle, with dozens of other kids, our every need met... no cooking, no cleaning, no chores, just studying and socializing--"  
  
"And only one class with our sensei instead of all of them," Hiei muttered, being more helpful with the cover story than Kurama had hoped.  
  
"What's a sensei?" Harry asked.  
  
"Master. Teacher. An expert in a given field of study." Kurama's eyes twinkled. "Ours is generally considered a terror."  
  
Hermione, who looked ready to burst, suddenly did. "Study abroad? At Hogwarts? There haven't been any transfer students for decades! Why now? Where were you before? Why's your sensei with you? What--"  
  
"Miss Granger, please!" Kurama laughed, holding up his hands to stem the flow of questions. "Give me a chance to answer!" Hermione subsided. "Yes, we're studying abroad, and at Hogwarts. Now, because our sensei has accepted a teaching position there, as part of the program. And before, we were in Japan."  
  
"What about You-Know-Who?"  
  
Kurama glanced at Hiei, who shrugged, then turned back to Hermione with a bewildered expression. "Um... we know who what?"  
  
Hermione gave them an exasperated look. "Him! You-Know-Who!"  
  
"She means Voldemort," Harry said apologetically.  
  
Ron and Hermione winced, and Ron muttered, "Please don't say that name..."  
  
"Oh! Him!" Kurama beamed. "Nasty piece of work, we're told. Died about fifteen years ago or so."  
  
"Officially," Hiei scoffed.  
  
"Well, yes, officially. Your Ministry says he's long gone, and ours figures yours would know best, so..." He took in Ron and Hermione's incredulous expressions, and Harry's sudden refusal to meet anyone's eyes, and sighed. "This program has been in the works for a very long time, and with no official reason to delay it again, well... the governments pretty much forced the program through." Sort of. Genkai had pushed it through, by offering to come out of retirement for the program, and to take her personal students rather than risk any of Japan's precious wizarding children.  
  
"That sucks!" Ron burst out.  
  
Hiei's face darkened. "We know."  
  
"Our sensei told us differently," Kurama added, solemn. "She said that Volde--," he caught Ron's reflexive cringe, and changed his words, "You-Know-Who was resurrected several weeks ago. And we do know some of the things he did when he was in power." He sat back, looking up at the roof of the car pensively. "So, we know to be careful."  
  
"Sometimes, careful isn't good enough," Harry murmured.  
  
"No," Kurama agreed, gently. "Sometimes, it's not." Harry's head shot up, green eyes reflecting shock. Kurama gazed steadily at Harry for a moment, then turned to Hermione. "So! Do you mind if we ask you a few questions now?" he asked, deliberately changing the subject.  
  
"Um... okay..." Hermione looked slightly bewildered, but relieved.  
  
"What exactly are 'Houses'?"  
  
****  
  
Harry turned his head to gaze out the window, tuning out his friends' explanation of the House system. The discussion of Voldemort -- and Kurama's too-calm, almost cheerful attitude about the whole situation there -- had triggered unpleasant thoughts in Harry's mind.  
  
Damn that idiot Fudge, and Rita Skeeter for her stupid sensationalist articles! Harry was not crazy, Voldemort was back, and Fudge's denial had the Ministries of other countries doing stupid things like this study abroad program! Kurama and Hiei's own government had sent them, sent kids, to ground zero, and they knew it. Hiei and Kurama knew about Voldemort, so they were going to be "careful". Careful! They didn't understand; they didn't know what they had volunteered for. Kurama had even called it a vacation!  
  
The train blasted into a tunnel, sudden darkness throwing Harry from his thoughts. His eyes fell on his ghostly reflection in the glass, then flicked farther back to the rest of the compartment, finding Hiei's eyes were focused on him. He met the smaller boy's disconcerting gaze evenly, watching as Hiei's brows slowly drew closer under the crisp white of his headband. Something about the irritation on Hiei's face, which was growing as Ron expounded more and more loudly on the evils of Slytherin, was reminding Harry of something...  
  
Dark eyes. Angry eyes, cold and glittering, guarded and watchful like a hawk's. Black hair. Slytherin.  
  
"It sounds like sensei will have her hands full with that House!" Kurama laughed.  
  
Sensei meant teacher.  
  
"Snape..." Harry murmured.  
  
"What's that, Harry?"  
  
Harry pulled his eyes away from the window, blinking. "I forgot something..." Forgot something like the nightmare vision from last night. How could he have just forgotten that? He would have to tell Ron and... wait. Did he really want to talk about it in front of Kurama and Hiei? They were -- well, Kurama was nice, but this was private. "Nevermind. It's nothing."  
  
"Harry...." Hermione began.  
  
He was saved from answering by a noisy clattering out in the corridor. "The trolley's here," he said. Hermione slid the door open, and a minute later they were buying pasties and candy. Hiei seemed to be glaring at the cart.  
  
Kurama picked up a Chocolate Frog and offered it to Hiei. "It's chocolate. What they put on brown Pocky. You like it." Hiei snatched the Frog, opened the box, and nearly hit the roof -- literally -- when the frog jumped out.  
  
"Ku-ra-ma..." he growled. Harry leaned over, picking up the frog from the empty seat across from Hiei, and held it back out to the fuming boy.  
  
"They've only got one jump in them," he said. "It's just a charm." Hiei eyed the frog warily, before taking it back and biting its head off.  
  
Ron opened the last of his Chocolate Frogs, expertly catching the treat as it leapt from the box, and taking out the accompanying card. "Blast."  
  
"Still haven't gotten Agrippa?" Harry asked. Ron had multiple copies of every Famous Wizard Card, except Agrippa. He'd been trying to get the elusive card since before their first year.  
  
"Nope," Ron said. "I got two more Circes, an Uric, a Genkai, and another Lockhart." He made a face.  
  
Kurama's eyes were wide. "A Genkai?!"  
  
"Yeah." Ron held the card out to Kurama. The other redhead raised an eyebrow at the picture, his expression mirrored by Hiei. "No one knows if her hair's really pink or if it's charmed," he added, misinterpreting the looks.  
  
"Master Genkai, retired Auror," Kurama read aloud. "An unorthodox witch from Eastern Asia--" Oh, Harry thought, that's why he reacted like that; she must be even more famous in their part of the world. "--Master Genkai is reputed to be the reigning authority on subdimensional beasts, and is particularly famous for sealing the British Isles from demons during the years from 1929-1969. Master Genkai enjoys Tai Chi and Waka poetry." He flipped the card back over. "She looks so young."  
  
"She's older than all the professors at Hogwarts, except the Headmaster," Hermione said helpfully. "I've read about her." Ron rolled his eyes. Of course she had. "She uses a style of magic that makes her look only about twenty when she's using a lot of power."  
  
"Can I keep this?" Kurama asked Ron.  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Thanks." He tucked the card away, as someone tapped at the door.  
  
Harry glanced up. A short, slim Asian girl hovered timidly in the open doorway. Her hair was a soft aqua color -- charmed or dyed, he couldn't tell -- and was very thick, caught back with a dark red crystal hair ornament, in a low ponytail similar to Kurama's. Large, dark brown eyes flicked over the teens in the car, landing on Hiei, and she beamed. "Oniisan," she said softly.  
  
The sullen boy's eyes gentled. "Yukina."  
  
"You forgot your lunch." She held out her hands, displaying three stacked packages, wrapped in pale blue, green, and black silk respectively. Kurama smiled and gestured for her to come in, making introductions.  
  
"Yukina, these are Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Guys, this is Yukina Koorime." His smile widened. "Hiei's sister."  
  
"Pleased to meet you," the girl murmured, bowing.  
  
His sister? Harry looked back and forth between the two, incredulous and hoping it didn't show on his face. Hiei was dark, Yukina pale; Hiei was surly, Yukina seemed gentle, and the list went on from there. They were nothing alike... well, except maybe a bit in build, since they were both as small as first-years, though both were definitely older. Their eyes were very nearly the same color, too, though the nearly-black color seemed a lot lighter and warmer on Yukina.  
  
"Sister?!" Ron blurted.  
  
Yukina beamed. "We're twins." No one knew how to respond to that. "May I?" She gestured to the free seat, sitting when they nodded dumbly. "Thank you." She handed the black package to Hiei, and the green one to Kurama, keeping the blue for herself. They unwrapped the packages under the Gryffindors' curious gazes, revealing shiny laquered boxes. Hiei popped the lid from his, revealing it to contain food: rice, something that looked like chicken, and some unidentifiable vegetables, all neatly crammed together. The other two glanced at them.  
  
"Are you not hungry?" Kurama asked. "We could wait." He ignored Hiei's annoyed look.  
  
"We're, uh, fine." Harry took a bite of his pumpkin pastie, feeling suddenly awkward as the Asian teens took out chopsticks and began delicately eating their odd lunches. Hermione soon began questioning them on the various items in the boxes, while Harry and Ron split the Weasley boy's sandwich, and it was several minutes before anyone noticed that Hiei's food wasn't going into his mouth.  
  
Harry watched in disbelief as the sour boy carefully selected the smallest pieces of meat, using his own chopsticks to feed them to a tiny black kitten whose head was poking from the heavy white scarf Hiei wore. It was something Harry wouldn't have been surprised to see Kurama doing, or Yukina, but... Hiei? The teenager who hadn't said more than one nice word the entire time? Maybe he really was just shy, like Kurama had said.  
  
"What's it's name?" he asked impulsively, nodding at the cat. Hiei froze.  
  
"You never did tell us, oniisan," Yukina added gently.  
  
"........ Yuki."  
  
"Yuki?" Harry repeated. "Like Yukina?"  
  
"You named your cat after your sister?" Ron asked incredulously.  
  
"That's so sweet!" Hermione gushed.  
  
Kurama burst out in a fit of coughing that sounded suspiciously like laughter.  
  
****  
  
Draco Malfoy sauntered down the corridor of the train, with his subordinates, Crabbe and Goyle, in tow. Most of this year's prefects were staying in their car at the front of the train, but Draco knew better. This was the time to assert authority, now, before they reached the school and the impact would be lost in the flood of summer gossip, new Sortings, and classwork -- in approximately that order of importance.  
  
Besides, he'd had enough of listening to Tracy prattle on about the new styles in her copy of Witches Weekly. He knew the other 5th-year prefect was more intelligent, more observant, more Slytherin than that.  
  
He casually bullied a few of the younger students, paying particular attention to the Gryffindors -- too bad he couldn't actually take House points yet; it would be so good to see the Gryffindor point tally in the negative numbers -- and virtually ignoring the Hufflepuffs. The whole lot of them were almost too easy to deal with, especially the younger years. He wanted better prey, someone he really hated, someone who needed to be taken down a few pegs... like Potter. Potter had this whole holier-than-thou, Muggle-loving righteousness that set Draco's teeth on edge. Plus, he kept getting away with things Draco couldn't (like getting on the Quidditch team a year early). And his friends were just as bad... worse, even, since they were a dirt-poor Weasel and a mudblood.  
  
He found his targets in a cabin in the second-to-last car.  
  
"Five points from Gryffindor for coming back, Potter," he said without preamble.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"And five more for backtalk." Oh, this felt good. He would have to do this for real when they got to the school. Could Houses go into negative points?  
  
"Ten points for abusing your position, Malfoy," Granger snapped.  
  
What? "You can't do that! You aren't a prefect!" All the prefects were up in the prefects car!  
  
"Actually, Malfoy, I am." She took a badge from her pocket, displaying it as proof. Merlin, he hated her. "And so is Harry." The bottom dropped out of Draco's stomach. Damn the bitch! And damn Potter's luck!  
  
"I see being Dumbledore's golden boy has paid off yet again," Draco sneered. He knew just where to dig to get to Potter. "You certainly didn't get the badge because of your grades."  
  
"Sod off , Malfoy!" Weasley snapped.  
  
"Temper, temper, Weasel. You might cost your House more points with such language." Lucius was good for one thing, at least; that last comment could have come from his mouth. Draco glanced at the other students in the compartment, putting his father out of his mind. "New students?" he asked, not expecting or giving time for an answer. He zeroed in on the oldest, an Asian redhead next to Potter. "What's this, a Weasley cousin? He does have the family hair... a bit old for a first-year, though, isn't he? And what, or perhaps I should ask who, did he do to be able to afford silk?"  
  
The redhead wasn't looking at him. "I doubt I have done any more than you have, Mr. Malfoy," he murmured, expressionless.  
  
Damn, this one was a viper. Who was he? How had he managed to take up with Potter? And more importantly, how could Draco minimize the damage to his position when the boy arrived at Hogwarts? He turned to look at the other two: first-years, a sullen boy and a wide-eyed girl. Draco raised an eyebrow at the easier target.  
  
"Green hair?" he sneered.  "What an absolutely charming fashion statement."  
  
She beamed. "Thank you!"  
  
Draco blinked, then narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Are you mocking me?"  
  
"Leave her alone, Malfoy," Harry said.  
  
"Still playing the bloody hero, Potter? Trying to make up for Cedric?"  
  
Weasley sprang from his seat with a shout of, "Bloody bastard!" Draco jumped out of range, whipping his wand out as the viper-redhead leapt to his feet and blocked Weasel and Potter. Potter was pale and visibly shaking, Draco noticed with a surge of satisfaction, before the Asian boy's gaze caught his.  
  
"I think you had best leave, Mr. Malfoy," he said calmly.  
  
"Why ever should I do that?" Draco asked, smirking. "Things were just beginning to get interesting."  
  
"I'll show you interesting, Malfoy!" Weasley muttered, trying -- and failing -- to push past the redhead, whose eyes narrowed.  
  
"Goodbye, Mr. Malfoy," he said firmly, lifting his free hand.  
  
"Kurama, don't! Please!" It was the girl. "Oniisan!"  
  
Before Draco could wonder what 'oniisan' meant, he felt a dull thud in the center of his chest. Two more impacted along his back and sides as the world spun, and his next conscious thought was that the train corridor had moved, knocking Crabbe and Goyle into him. But no, that was ridiculous; it was the other way around. Draco had been moved, and thrown against his lackeys. The sullen boy glaring at him from the doorway of Potter's compartment still had his fist held up before him. Hadn't he even bothered to use magic? How crude. Draco opened his mouth to hex the brat, and choked as air rushed into his forcibly emptied lungs, making him cough painfully. He waved his wand threateningly, wordlessly promising retribution as he wheezed.  
  
The little punk simply glared at him and slammed the compartment door in his face.  
  
****  
  
Yukina broke the silence. "Cedric?"  
  
Harry slumped bonelessly into his seat at the soft question. Ron followed, stiff with undissipated anger. Hermione bit her lip.  
  
"The boy who was killed," Kurama murmured, half-turning to gaze sadly at the trio. "Right?" Harry nodded once, curtly.  
  
"Oh..." Yukina's eyes flickered between Harry and the doorway where Draco had stood. She raised her hand to cover her mouth, which was slightly open in astonishment. "How could he say such a thing?" she breathed.  
  
"Because he's Draco sodding Malfoy and he's a bloody git who's glad You-Know-Who's back," Ron growled.  
  
"And he's always been jealous of Harry," Hermione sniffed. "Ever since we started school and Harry wouldn't be friends with him."  
  
"He just wanted in on Harry's fame," Ron grumbled.  
  
"Fame?" Kurama repeated blankly.  
  
Ron and Hermione stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown a second head -- although, considering some of the spells they were used to the Weasley twins using, that would have probably been less bizarre than what they had just heard.  
  
"He's Harry Potter," Hermione said pointedly. When Kurama and Yukina still looked politely blank (and Hiei continued ignoring them in favor of glowering at the door), she added in exasperation, "The Boy-Who-Lived!"  
  
"Oseizonsha-sama?" Yukina gasped. Hiei's head snapped around.  
  
Hermione blinked.  "O-say what?"  
  
Kurama's eyes were wide as he answered, staring at Harry. "Oseizonsha-sama. Most honored and respected Survivor, the infant who--"  
  
"He knows his own story," Hiei interrupted.  
  
"Right, right. Sorry." Kurama smiled, a bit ruefully.  
  
Hermione looked puzzled. "Didn't you know his name?"  
  
"No." Before Hermione could ask, Kurama added, "No one at home will say it." This was true, according to Genkai.  
  
"But you will say You-Know-Who's name?" she pressed.  
  
Kurama shrugged. "He lost."  
  
"Now that's a bloody nice way to look at it," Ron remarked, grinning.  
  
****  
  
They talked about inconsequential things for the remainder of the afternoon, discussing such cultural differences as food, music, and games. Kurama and Ron went off on a tangent for a while, comparing the intricate strategy games of Go and chess. Hermione asked about school, distracting Kurama before the game argument got out of hand. The Gryffindors were surprised to discover that, though Hiei and Yukina hadn't, most of the other transfer students had been going to Muggle school as well as training privately with their sensei.  
  
All too soon, the sunshine slanting in through the windows turned copper with sunset, then darkened.  
  
"We're almost there," Hermione murmured, looking out over the forested mountains.  
  
"I take it we should change into our school robes, then?" Kurama asked, smiling. Hermione nodded, and Kurama stood. "Ours are with the rest of our belongings, in our original compartment. We'll see you at the feast?"  
  
"Sure," Harry said. "You can sit with us if you get into Gryffindor."  
  
"We'll take you up on that, if we do." Behind Kurama, Hiei and Yukina got to their feet, Hiei sliding the door open and stepping outside.  
  
"Thank you for your hospitality," Yukina murmured, bowing politely before following.  
  
Kurama bowed as well. "Until the feast, then." His grin widened teasingly. "Oseizonsha-sama." Harry reddened.  
  
"Just Harry. Okay?"  
  
"Okay. We'll see you later, Harry." Kurama replied with a chuckle, stepping back into the corridor and shutting the door. He turned to begin walking towards the back with the Makai twins, his expression abruptly sobering. "Well. They seem to be nice kids."  
  
"Nosy, reckless, and honorable," Hiei replied flatly.  
  
"But that's good, right?" Yukina asked. Hiei shrugged.  
  
They quieted as a couple of robed students passed them from the direction of the lavatories, casual clothes bundled under their arms, and returned the rest of the way in comfortable silence. Kurama knocked on the door, then slid it open and entered, with the twins on his heels. "Everyone? It's time to change. We're almost there."  
  
Yuusuke looked up in surprise, loosening his headlock on Kuwabara. "Already?" Kurama nodded as Kuwabara broke free.  
  
The teens crowded into the compartment, getting robes from their trunks and turning away from each other under Genkai's direction. Hiei set Yuki on the high shelf over the seats as they changed.  
  
"We have our work cut out for us, I think," Kurama said, raising his voice to carry behind him.  
  
"What? Why?" Yuusuke frowned.  
  
"We met oseizonsha-sama." Kurama pulled his shirt off over his head. "His name's Harry Potter. He's... how did you put it, Hiei?"  
  
"Nosy, reckless, and honorable."  
  
"Yes. And his friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, are very similar. Miss Granger seems highly intelligent and intensely curious--"  
  
"Too much so," Hiei muttered.  
  
"And Mr. Weasley seems to have a rather short temper," Kurama continued. "Another student, a Draco Malfoy, stopped by and tried to pick a fight. He nearly succeeded."  
  
"It was horrible," Yukina murmured.  
  
"How?" Botan asked.  
  
"He was needling Harry about that boy, Cedric," Kurama answered. "Mr. Weasley later told us that Malfoy is glad that Voldemort is back." He paused. "Oh, we should try to avoid saying Voldemort's name. The custom here is to refer to him as You-Know-Who."  
  
Yuusuke shot him a hard look. "That," he said, "is really stupid."  
  
"It's the custom, Yuusuke," Keiko said sharply. "At least try not to offend them by accident!"  
  
"Actually," Kurama told them, "I don't think you'll offend them, exactly, if you do say it. They seem to be more terrified of the name than anything else."  
  
"Weirdoes."  
  
"Toguro."  
  
Yuusuke dropped his tie. "Point," he conceded, scowling as he picked it back up. He threw the school robe over his shoulders as the train gently lurched and came to a stop.  
  
"We're here," Genkai said unnecessarily. "Leave your things here; they'll be taken up to the school." They followed her from the compartment and onto the platform, with some difficulty because of the crowds of much taller students. A man's voice rose over the teenagers' din.  
  
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"  
  
Genkai glanced back at them. "We're to go with the first years," she informed them, heading towards the caller. They quickly followed, losing Genkai in the crowd anyways, but by this time they were able to see the huge man calling for the first years.  
  
"He looks like a giant," Keiko whispered to Botan.  
  
"Oh, no," Botan whispered back. "He can't be more than half. He's only about twice our height." They reached the tiny group of students standing near him, just in time to see Genkai tug at his coat.  
  
"Ah, there yeh are, Professor," the man said, bending down to shake hands with Genkai. She barely came up to his knee. "I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' the Keys and Professor fer Care o' Magical Creatures. Yeh can call me jus' Hagrid. Welcome ter Hogwarts." He stood up and bellowed for first years again. "All right, then. We have everybody? No more firs' years? Follow me, then, and mind yer step!" He led them down a steep, narrow path, catching stumbling children with the ease of long years of practice.  
  
Kurama had no trouble with the path. It was as dark as a night in the Makai, probably since there were thick trees growing near and over the footpath, but Hagrid's lantern was more than enough light for him. He could probably read by it. He caught Keiko as she tripped over a tree root, then they came around a bend in the path and got their first sight of Hogwarts, on a bluff on the far side of a small lake.  
  
There was a low "Oooooh!" Yuusuke and Kuwabara whistled. Kurama and Hiei's eyes went wide.  
  
The castle was not quite as impressive as some of the strongholds Kurama had lived in and stolen from during his centuries as Youko. On its own merit, it rated slightly better than the castle of the Four Beasts of Youma. But no Makai castle had enough lighted windows to blend in with a starry sky. No Makai castle had a sky above it.  
  
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called out, breaking the shock. Kurama glanced at the lake to find a fleet of small rowboats lined up along a dock. He climbed into one after Yukina, Kuwabara, and Hiei. The others took the boat next to theirs, and he saw Hagrid help Genkai into his own. "FORWARD!" the giant shouted, and Yukina squeaked as their boat suddenly pulled away from the dock. She recovered quickly, clambering over the seats to the prow, leaning out slightly over the water. Hiei and Kuwabara tensed slightly, identical worry on their faces as they watched her. She turned back, face shining with joy.  
  
"It's so beautiful," she said softly, not needing to talk over a motor or wind, before looking back out over the water again.  
  
"HEADS DOWN!" Hagrid shouted once more, ducking as his boat in the lead slipped through some vines trailing from the cliff into the water. Kurama obediently ducked, automatically identifying the vines as ivy as they trailed over his back, and found they'd entered a small grotto. The boats lined themselves up neatly on the shore, and the occupants got out. Hagrid led them up another passageway, this one of stone rather than trees, and into the castle proper. He stopped before a heavy oak door and knocked. It opened at once, revealing a tall, stern-looking older woman in dark green robes.  
  
"Firs' years and transfers, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.  
  
"Thank you, Hagrid," she replied. "If you would be so kind as to show our new Professor to the Great Hall, I will take them from here."  
  
Genkai gestured for her students to remain, and left with Hagrid. Professor McGonagall turned, leading the students through a vaulted entrance hall larger than Kurama's house, to a set of double doors.  
  
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, turning to face them once again. "The feast will begin shortly, but before you can take your seats in the Great Hall, you must be sorted into your Houses. The ceremony will take place after you enter the Hall.  
  
The four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, and each has an equally long and noble history. While you are at Hogwarts, your House will be like your family. You will take classes with your House, eat with them, and live in your House dormitories. Your achievements will bring your House points; rule-breaking will cost them. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the house cup."  
  
Her eyes landed on the tantei, clustered together in a noticeably taller group. "I will be taking the first years to be Sorted first. I expect our transfer students to wait here quietly until the doors open again. At that point, please make your way to the front of the dais." She turned once more, opening the doors, and led the younger students into the Great Hall. The double doors fell shut behind her.  
  
"Well," Yuusuke said, sarcastically. "That was friendly."  
  
****  
  
The ride up to the castle had been made in an uncomfortable silence, the fourth seat in the carriage taken by a 3rd-year Hufflepuff, who seemed almost defiant with her black armband and raised chin. Harry and Hermione, and the other Gryffindor prefects, had been drawn aside by Professor McGonagall in the entrance hall, given the password to the dorms, and then shooed into the Great Hall. So Harry hadn't yet had a chance to mention Snape.  
  
They took their seats next to Ron at the Gryffindor table, and Harry's eyes flicked towards the dais just as Ron leaned over.  
  
"I don't see Snape!" he stage-whispered. Hermione's eyes went wide, and she followed Harry's gaze, obviously counting seats. "You don't think--?"  
  
"There's an empty place for Professor McGonagall, and Hagrid, and the new Defense professor... but not for him," Hermione murmured.  
  
"Who?" Neville asked.  
  
"Snape," Harry answered woodenly. "He's missing."  
  
Neville's eyes widened, and he spun to look at the teacher's table, face slowly brightening as he realized Harry was right. "Where d-do you think... he is?"  
  
"Maybe he's gotten sacked!" Ron said.  
  
"No, then there would be a new professor up there, or another spot for one," Hermione said. "Maybe he's sick."  
  
"Snape's too nasty to get sick," Ron grumbled.  
  
"Well, then, I don't know!"  
  
Harry had sunk lower and lower at his seat as they'd argued, wishing the crowd wasn't there so he could tell them. Although Hermione had a point: if Snape was... gone, there would be a new professor up there. Unless Dumbledore hadn't managed to get a substitute in the single day since the nightmare... He caught movement from the corner of his eye, and sat up expectantly with the rest of the students as Professor McGonagall led the first-years in. They crowded together nervously between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, as McGonagall set a three-legged stool before the dais. She set a torn, dirty wizard's hat on top. Everyone stared at it silently for a moment. Then, a long tear near the brim opened, and the Sorting Hat began to sing.  
  
 _I may be just a Hat, all worn out and run down_  
 _But I'm the best judge of character you'll ever be around_  
 _To see your inner nature, that is what I do_  
 _I place you in the Houses that you're best suited to_  
 _For Gryffindor the heroes_  
 _And brave deeds of derring-do_  
 _For Hufflepuff the patient_  
 _The hardworking and true_  
 _For Ravenclaw the scholars_  
 _Of thirsty mind and wit_  
 _For Slytherin the cunning_  
 _The slippery and quick_  
 _So put me on! Let me see_  
 _The truth within your mind_  
 _Let me do my duty_  
 _Your true House let me find!_  
  
They all applauded, then McGonagall unrolled a scroll of parchment, and the Sorting began. Harry tried to pay attention, but his eyes kept wandering up to the professors' table, as if hoping to see his most hated teacher had reappeared. He didn't, but Harry saw Hagrid in his own seat, with presumably the new Defense teacher next to him. Harry couldn't quite see her from his seat; Hagrid was blocking his view.  
  
Finally, the first years were Sorted, though McGonagall didn't remove the stool and Hat before Dumbledore stood.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said somberly, "Our Sorting is not over." A ripple of surprise went through the Hall. "We have a number of transfer students this year. Due to some rather unusual circumstances, these students will be put into the fifth year." He looked around the Hall with a faint smile. "I trust you will make them feel welcome."  
  
With that, Dumbledore raised his hand, and the giant double doors to the Hall opened once more.  
  
****  
  
The heavy oak doors abruptly creaked, and began to slowly open before the tantei.  
  
"About time," Yuusuke muttered. "Let's see what we're up against." They entered the Hall, the boys instinctively falling into a guard-like formation, with Yuusuke and Kuwabara up front, and Kurama and Hiei covering the group's back. Botan kept a guiding hand on Keiko and Yukina's shoulders. The shorter girls were staring at the enchanted ceiling in undisguised awe.  
  
Hiei was no less awed by the ceiling reflecting the night sky, but he refused to give in to it. He instead kept his attention on the rest of the Hall, on guard against anything. This was perhaps the best time to take one of them out, on the first night, before they were familiar with their new environment.  
  
His sharp hearing caught whispered comments as they walked the length of the Hall.  
  
"They're going into fifth year?"  
  
"What's with the kids?"  
  
"Forget the kids, check out the fox!"  
  
"Which one?"  
  
"The redhead!"  
  
"Um, the redhead's a boy... he's wearing pants."  
  
"Shoot, you're right."  
  
They reached the front of the Hall, and the talk died down as McGonagall stepped forward and lifted a worn hat from the stool in front of them. She peered at them over the top of a scroll in her other hand. "When I call your name, you will come forward and take a seat on the stool," she said. "Jaganshi, Hiei!"  
  
Hiei slipped past the others, pausing before them to glance warily at the hat and the stool, before sitting on it. He had only a moment to see the eyes of the entire school on him, catching Malfoy's vindictive glare, before something soft dropped unceremoniously on his head, covering his eyes. He stiffened.  
  
 _What the hell?!_  
  
 _"Hm, what have we here?"_ The small voice seemed to come from somewhere near his ear, but Hiei instantly recognized it as telepathy. " _A demon! I haven't Sorted one of your kind in centuries!"_  
  
Hiei tried to reach up, to pull whatever it was -- wait, that hat the ningen female was holding -- off his head, and found he wasn't able to move.  
  
 _"Now, now, don't do that. I have to Sort you. It may take a while; you're very difficult."_  
  
 _Difficult!_ Hiei would have sliced the Hat in two, if he'd had his sword and was able to move. _I'll show you difficult, you mindraping scrap of cowhide--!_  
  
 _"I'm not that deep, young demon. I'm not even really touching your mind. You're able to see as much with your Eye half-warded."_ The Hat sounded slightly put out.  
  
 _Whatever,_ Hiei snapped, seething. _Just get it over with._  
  
 _"I can't just do that. You're a fascinating fellow, you know that? Most demons are boringly evil. Kill, maim, conquer, win, kill, ad infinitum. But you… you carry traits of all the Houses, in strong measures."_  
  
 _I don't know what you're talking about. I'm an evil demon. I want power. I hate ningen, especially the stupid ones without any magic._  
  
 _"And you're so sure that's all you are, hm?"_ Hiei blinked, taken aback, as the Hat continued, _"You're highly intelligent. You're intensely loyal--"_  
  
 _I AM NOT!_  
  
 _"--to your sister. You took the Eye for her."_  
  
 _You will NOT tell her that._  
  
 _"Of course not. And in return, you will go quietly to..."_  
  
 _Where?_  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"


	5. The Feast, Spyeyes, and Devil's Snare

  
Hiei found himself free to move, and pulled the Hat from his head, outwardly calm. Gryffindor? The Hat had put him in _Gryffindor_? He set the blasted thing on the stool, and walked towards the far table, mind working furiously. They'd all expected him to be in Slytherin. _He'd_ expected to be in Slytherin. The few loosely outlined strategies the team had come up with were all going to have to be scrapped.  
  
As before the Sorting, Hiei's sharp hearing caught murmured comments as he looked down the long table and caught sight of Harry. The boy was leaning over to talk to another one.  
  
"Scoot over a bit, Neville. We met him on the train. He's a bit nervous."  
  
"He's g-glaring..."  
  
"He's okay."  
  
Hiei kept his face expressionless, walking down to stand next to Harry, raising an eyebrow at him and the other boy. He was spared from saying anything when McGonagall called the next name.  
  
"Koorime, Yukina!"  
  
Hiei sat down between Harry and Neville, fists clenching as he watched the Hat settle down over his sister's eyes. He did not want that... that thing near his sister's mind.  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
Hiei relaxed fractionally, as Yukina emerged from under the Hat, beaming, and joined her table.  
  
"Kuwabara, Kazuma!"  
  
The Hat hadn't even touched Kuwabara's head before it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
"Aw, man, not with the shrimp!" Kuwabara blurted out.  
  
Laughter rippled through the Hall. Hiei glared daggers at Kuwabara as he hurried over to the table. The largest tantei caught Hiei's look and prudently took a seat at the far end of the long table. Hiei turned his glare on Harry and Ron in turn, then Kurama. The fox was one of the few who hadn't laughed, but Hiei knew Kurama was laughing on the inside. It was not funny.  
  
"Minamino, Kurama!"  
  
To Hiei's utter indignation, Kurama flicked a glance at him and winked before taking his place under the Hat.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
 _"Hello, Youko Kurama."_  
  
 _Hello, Hat,_ Kurama replied politely.  
  
 _"Well, now, where shall I place you?"_ it mused.  
  
 _I need to be in Slytherin._  
  
Kurama felt the Hat twitch on his head. " _That was quick."_  
  
 _I need to be in Slytherin. It's as simple as that._  
  
 _"Hm...."_ Something fluttered against the limits of Kurama's mind, close to the highly protected link he sometimes used to communicate with Hiei. " _But you want to be with the young demon in Gryffindor, don't you? You are brave, risking everything to save your human mother-"_  
  
 _Firstly, I'm not an actual adolescent. We work well together, but I can survive without him. And secondly, leave my mother out of this. I have to be a Slytherin._  
  
 _"Persistent, aren't you."_ The Hat sounded a bit put out that Kurama hadn't risen to its baiting. " _Why Slytherin? You're hardly being pressured or expected to be there. You have options."_  
  
 _You know perfectly well why we - the seven of us, and the new professor - are here. We need eyes in Slytherin, Hiei and I are the only ones capable of surviving that House, and you've placed him already. In Gryffindor, of all places, I might add._ Kurama smiled, wickedly amused. _He'll never live it down._  
  
 _"Well, it is in your nature..."_ the Hat sighed. " _At least we agree. You belong in_ SLYTHERIN!"  
  
Kurama removed the Hat and stood, unsurprised at the weak applause he was getting from the Slytherin table. It would seem Malfoy had begun circulating negative information about him already, though no doubt he'd done more to damage Hiei's position. Perhaps it was better for Hiei to be in Gryffindor, after all. He walked calmly to the Slytherin table, selected a seat at the far end, and made his way down the length of the table, easily avoiding a number of attempts to trip him. He paused as he passed behind Malfoy, not looking at the blond as he spoke.  
  
"Really, Mr. Malfoy, I'm a redhead, not a Weasley."  
  
Draco stiffened, darting a murderous look towards Kurama, but the fox pretended not to see it and took his seat.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Harry sat, stunned, eyes fixed on Kurama as he made his way to the Slytherin table. Slytherin? SLYTHERIN?  
  
"Slytherin?!" Ron hissed in disbelief, echoing Harry's thoughts. "But he was nice on the train!"  
  
"And smart!" Hermione added, leaning over the table. Hiei glanced at her.  
  
"So?" he asked.  
  
"So?!" Ron whispered. "So... so... they're Slytherin! They're--"  
  
"Cunning," Hiei interrupted.  
  
"I was going to say evil."  
  
Hiei shrugged indifferently, turning his eyes back to the Sorting as McGonagall called out, "Shinime, Botan!"  
  
"Don't you care?" Harry growled, suddenly furious. "He's your friend!"  
  
"Of course I care," Hiei said calmly. "It's a very good House for him."  
  
"But..." Ron sputtered. "But..."  
  
Hiei leaned across the table, meeting the redhead's eyes with steely calm. "Kurama is loyal, but only to those who are loyal to him. Once he has decided your worth, he will not betray you... unless you first betray him. He's vicious when he's been betrayed. That's why he's in Slytherin. Remember that."  
  
Ron gulped. "Right, mate. Um..." He cast about for a change of subject. "Isn't that your sister being Sorted?"  
  
Hiei's gaze turned scornful. "My sister was already Sorted. That is Botan."  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat yelled.  
  
"Er, right," Ron muttered. Hiei looked away, watching the blue-haired girl take a seat next to Yukina.  
  
"Uremeshi, Yuusuke!" McGonagall called. The black-haired boy took his seat with a faint smirk. Harry's eyes drifted from him to Kurama, only to find the redhead was looking back. Kurama held his gaze for a moment, then his eyes shifted to Hiei and back, and he smiled. He looked pointedly at the Sorting once more, and Harry hastily followed suit.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
The last transfer student, the brunette girl, waited politely for McGonagall to call "Yukimura, Keiko!" before making her way to the stool. It was only a moment before the Hat shouted the final Sorting of the year.  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
Dumbledore waited for the girl to run to the Ravenclaw table, then stood. "To our newcomers - welcome! To our old hands - welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"  
  
The students laughed and applauded, for the most part, as food appeared out of nowhere. The usual roasts, vegetables, breads, sauces, and pitchers of pumpkin juice were accompanied by teapots and smaller, single-serving dishes of artfully arranged foods. A bowl of rice appeared next to Hiei's elbow. Harry watched as Hiei selected a covered bowl and a few of the smaller plates, each with something different on it, and decided to try one.  
  
Harry took the small, square dish nearest him, the food on it cut and garnished to look like a white, many-petaled flower. It was easy enough to scoop up the 'flower' with his fork, which was fortunate because he didn't know how to work chopsticks.  
  
"I didn't know Westerners liked raw fish," Hiei said, right as Harry popped it whole into his mouth and bit down.  
  
Harry's eyes flew wide, and he grabbed his napkin off his lap, spitting the fish into it. He gulped down most of his glass of pumpkin juice, sputtering a bit when he came up for air. Ron's face was a picture.  
  
"Raw *fish*?!" Ron squeaked, eyes widening as Hiei bit into his own 'flower'. Harry finished off his juice and poured more, seeing the corner of Hiei's mouth turn up wickedly.  
  
"Squid," Hiei confirmed. Ron turned faintly green. Neville's fork went clattering to his plate, Hiei's hand shooting out to clench in the front of the boy's robes as he fell backwards.  
  
"Neville!" Hermione gasped, bolting half-out of her seat. Hiei pulled Neville up a bit to peer into Neville's face.  
  
"Is he okay?" Harry asked, trying to look around Hiei.  
  
"Fainted," Hiei grunted, yanking the boy fully upright. Dean pushed Neville's plate out of the way, giving Hiei space to put Neville down on. Hermione settled back into her seat, relaxing now that Neville had been taken care of. Her eyes gleamed with a look Harry was all too familiar with, as Hiei went back to eating.  
  
"So, Hiei," she said. "Is it all raw fish?"  
  
"No."  
  
Harry set down his pumpkin juice. "So, what is it, then?" he asked.  
  
Hiei glanced up, eyes flashing with resignation. He then began pointing at various dishes, curtly naming each item between bites. Neville came around about halfway through Hiei's listing, and picked at his food for the rest of the meal.  
  
Dessert came and went, no one saying anything when Hiei slipped a number of pastries into a napkin and hid it in his pocket, and finally Dumbledore stood once more. The Hall fell silent.  
  
"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First years and transfers ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students -- and a few of our older students ought to know by now too." Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged smirks.  
  
"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.  
  
"We are delighted to welcome a new teacher to our ranks: Professor Genkai--" most of the students gasped in awe, and the Hall broke out in excited whispers as Dumbledore continued, "--who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Quidditch tryouts will take place on the--"  
  
Ron came out of his shock. "Wow," he murmured.  
  
"Hiei, why didn't you say Genkai was your sensei?!" Hermione asked, leaning over the cleared table. Hiei raised an eyebrow and smirked, as she gushed, "This is so incredible! She's like the leading authority on Dark creatures!"  
  
"No wonder Kurama wanted my Chocolate Frog card..."  
  
"So she's been teaching all of you, privately?" Hermione asked Hiei.  
  
"She has?!" Suddenly several other Gryffindors were leaning over the table, pushing at Harry and Neville.  
  
"How long?!"  
  
"Did she pick you guys special?"  
  
"What's she like?"  
  
A flash went off in Harry's face. "Colin, cut it out!" he said, rubbing at his eyes. He was seeing spots. A hand clapped down on his shoulder.  
  
"Oi, oi, quit mobbing the guy. Oi! I said back off! Put the camera away, man, you've got all year to look at people. What the hell is going on?"  
  
Harry blinked, the spots fading, and looked up to see the other black-haired transfer student -- his name was Yuusuke, if Harry remembered the Sorting right -- standing over him, one hand on his shoulder and another on Hiei's.  
  
"Er..."  
  
Dumbledore's voice carried over Harry's confusion. "I see that you are quite excited about our new teacher. That's excellent, but you might want to be a little less effusive in your greetings." He watched expectantly, and the Gryffindor students sheepishly settled back down.  
  
Yuusuke plopped down between Harry and Hiei, rather than going back to his own seat. "What was up with that?" he asked quietly, ignoring Dumbledore.  
  
"They're stupid ningen," Hiei muttered.  
  
"He's trying to create a photographic record of my time at Hogwarts," Harry said, even more quietly.  
  
Yuusuke shot him a penetrating glance. "And you are...?"  
  
"Harry Potter."  
  
"Oh." Yuusuke frowned for a second, thinking, than snapped his fingers. "Oh, right. Oseizonsha-sama."  
  
Harry buried his head in his hands. "Not that again."  
  
Yuusuke clapped him on the shoulder again. "Tired of that, eh? I get it. I'll just call you Harry-- wait, no... wrong one. I'll call you Potter, then."  
  
Ron blinked. "Don't you mean Harry?" he asked.  
  
"Nah," Yuusuke shrugged. "We just met. We don't know each other well enough. I'm Urem--, er, Yuusuke Uremeshi. You can call me Uremeshi."  
  
There was a sudden commotion around them; the other students were standing, obviously dismissed. Hermione signaled to Harry.  
  
"Come on, Harry, we have to lead the first-years -- and I guess the transfers, too -- up to the dorm," she said.  
  
"Can we wait a minute?" Harry asked. He could see the professors leaving; he still had to ask about Snape--  
  
"No, Harry, we're responsible here!" Ron let out a snort, and Hermione turned on him. "We are! Come on, Harry."  
  
"But 'Mione..."  
  
"It. Can. Wait." Oh boy.  
  
Harry sighed, giving in at that moment. "Fine," he said, through gritted teeth.  
  
Hermione drew herself up. "First years!" she called. They crowded to her, and the orange-haired transfer student showed up next to Yuusuke and Harry. Yuusuke introduced him as Kuwabara, and the entire group followed Hermione from the Great Hall.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Later, several levels lower in the castle, Kurama entered the fifth-year Slytherin boys' dorm. He looked around the unoccupied room, examining his assigned den for the year. It was roughly circular, containing six twin beds arranged like spokes on a wheel, around a coal heater. Each had heavy green curtains, currently drawn to display neatly made beds, and stood on matching thick carpets. A trunk sat on the floor at the foot of each bed, and a nightstand was set on one side of the head, against the wall. The tapestries covering said wall were predominantly green. There was just one gap in all the green, on the other side of the room, where Kurama could see a single window flung open to let in the pleasant evening air.  
  
Kurama found his own trunk at the foot of the bed nearest him on the right. It was the best bed for a fast getaway, if the window was blocked, but it was the worst bed in every other respect. It was right next to the door, on the side the door opened on, so Kurama's bed would be the first hit in any sort of attack. For the same reason, it would be the favored target for thefts, pranks, and vandalism. He needed to fix this.  
  
He shut the door behind him and pushed a bit of power into his voice to summon a creature like Hiei's Makai imps.  
  
"House elf!" he heard. Ah, so that was what they were called? How interesting.  
  
The air shimmered before him, and a creature materialized before him. Kurama raised an eyebrow, taking in the height, the long limbs, the flattened face with its huge eyes, the soft, smooth, greenish skin, and the tea-towel it wore. This was not expected.  
  
"What is master wantings? Tobbles is--" The creature froze, eyes landing on Kurama. It drew itself up huffily. "Yous is not master! Yous is student! Yous is not supposed to summons Tobbles!"  
  
"My apologies, Tobbles. I am new here, and I don't know all the rules yet," Kurama said calmly. "I was wondering if you could do me a small favor?"  
  
The house-elf tilted its head. "Tobbles is listening. But Tobbles is not promising! Student must not be helped breaking rules!"  
  
"Oh, no, no!" Kurama said hastily. "I don't want to break a rule, but... would it be allowed for me to have a small pot of dirt?" He sketched the dimensions of a fairly small flowerpot with his hands. "Something suitable for roses? Just one? I'm used to growing them by my bed at home."  
  
The elf beamed. "That is no problems, student sir! Tobbles is getting right aways!" It paused. "Student is not to be summoning house-elves again, though! Masters is gettings very upset when students summons house-elves!"  
  
"I promise, Tobbles. I won't summon a house-elf again." Tobbles nodded, and vanished. Kurama drew a seed from his hair, made it sprout, and hid his hand in the folds of a curtain at the head of his bed, trickling his power into the growing vine. It burrowed through the folds, branching out, hiding in the heavy draperies and carved wood of the frame.  
  
"Tobbles is back, student sir! Tobbles is bringing student's dirt!"  
  
Kurama blinked, and looked away from the bed. "Thank you, Tobbles," he said politely. The house elf set the flowerpot on the nightstand and vanished. Kurama scooped out a fistful of dirt with his free hand, then bent down and packed it into the corner of his bedframe, between the slats. With his other hand, he slowly drew down the root-end of his plant, growing more of the stem as he went rather than disturb the vines curling in his curtains, and pushed it carefully into the earth. Another second of power, and it took root, securing the dirt into its corner. Kurama poured a bit of water from his night-pitcher onto the root, and carefully pulled himself free. The bed looked exactly the same as it had before.  
  
He took two more seeds from his hair, and pushed one into the flowerpot before taking a second handful of dirt. This time, he went to the open window, and levered himself onto the wide ledge. He barely glanced at the spectacular view -- the Slytherin dungeons were set into the bluff overlooking the lake -- as he focused on finding a crack or tiny ledge in the stone without dislodging the ivy already growing there. Soon enough, he found one, and he filled it with the fresh earth and his final seed for the night. He made it sprout, and it threw out a jumble of wire-thin stems and nearly-transparent, teardrop-shaped leaves the size of his palm.  
  
Kurama sent his power through this vine somewhat more quickly than he had the first. It wasn't so noticeable if plants were growing on the outside of the castle, than on the inside, and at this hour there wasn't enough light for a human to see the telltale shiver in the ivy as his new plant grew through and tangled with it. Focusing most of his attention on the growing stems, he searched for cracks and holes at the far ends. He found a number of openings, and sent those stems wriggling through, most hitting dead ends. A few, though, re-entered the castle dungeons.  
  
Kurama sent these running along the corridors, in all directions, keeping to the corners of the walls and burrowing between the flagstones. Now he began to let the vine flower, its tiny, closed buds sprouting at key points along the branches: in rooms, at the ends of hallways, at intersections, and pointed up and down stairwells.  
  
Eventually, his vine was laced through the entirety of the habitable parts of the dungeons. Kurama paused, took a deep breath, and sent a final surge of power through the length of the vine, now kilometers long, making every tiny, mottled-grey flower bloom, revealing a tiny lens in the center of each. He twisted the power, setting his Makai spyeye at this size, and released it. He slowly disentangled his hands from the vine, noticing they were trembling faintly, and clenched them into fists as he straightened. Now came the hard part of the evening.  
  
Dealing with Malfoy.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Draco had been battling an oncoming headache when he'd left the common room for the dorms. Voldemort, his father, that bastard Potter, Weasel, the mudblood, Dumble-dumb-arse's favoritism, the transfer brat in fifth year -- at least that one wasn't here -- and the Slytherin transfer, the viper-redhead, had all contributed to the rapid onset of a tension headache of monstrous proportions already. Not to mention the disgusting table habits of his lackeys had been worse than ever tonight. At least they'd promised to wash before coming back from their dessert raid.  
  
Draco entered the room quietly, head pounding, and instantly noticed the extra bed in the room. A flash of red (red?!) drew his eyes to the window, and his headache intensified as he recognized his new roommate.  
  
The boy was friends with bloody Potter. He'd been rude to Draco on the train. He'd done it again at the table, in front of a horde of backstabbing Slytherins. No one was rude to Draco Malfoy, especially not twice!  
  
He moved silently towards Minamino, hastily putting together a plan. The redhead was on the window ledge, oblivious to the world, perhaps the only time he would be before he wised up to the realities of the world. Constant Vigilance, the only point Draco would ever agree on with a certain ferret-making nutcase, was necessary. Be that as it was, Minamino was in the window, and you didn't need strength -- just leverage -- to hold someone close to your size precariously from one of those. Draco would have the advantage, easily, and then he could educate the upstart transfer on proper behavior towards him!  
  
Minamino hadn't noticed him. Another ten inches... six... three -- his hands came up, stretching towards Minamino -- one--!  
  
Vines snapped around Draco's outstretched wrists; more caught his ankles. He instinctively opened his mouth to yell, and a wad of leaves stuffed themselves in and muffled the sound, their vine looping around Draco's head to secure the leaves in place. The vines yanked Draco off his feet and pulled him, fighting, onto Minamino's bed, tightening as he struggled. He pushed against the mattress, knocking the bedcovers askew and making the springs protest, the vines pulling tighter in retaliation until Draco could barely move, laid out spreadeagle on the bed.  
  
He bit down hard on the leaves in his mouth, furious. How dare Minamino?! How dare he... how dare... how...? Draco suddenly realized he couldn't tell what Minamino had done. He couldn't find any trace of recognizable magic in the vines, aside from the bit that marked them as inherently magical. No charms, no potions, nothing Dark, no sign of any sentient being's touch. Just... pure, magical plant. Minamino had done nothing to it. What the hell?  
  
A soft sound made Draco snap his head to the side. Minamino had come out of whatever trance state he'd been in, and was now gazing blankly at him through half-lidded eyes. Draco wasn't entirely sure the other boy was completely out of his trance.  
  
"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," he murmured. Draco tried to hiss through the leaves, yanking at his wrist ties and glaring. "Please stay still," Minamino continued. "Devil's Snare is rather difficult. You don't want to cut off your circulation."  
  
Draco stilled, seething. Devil's Snare?! He was caught in a Devil's Snare vine?! Why wasn't Minamino doing something, like, oh, getting a teacher to deal with the infestation? How had the house elves let something like this get into the dorms and grow this big?! When he was free, he was going to write to his father!  
  
Minamino sat down next to Draco on the bed, driving Draco's fury and his headache up another notch. He was crazy, he had to be! A complete lunatic! How was Draco supposed to get out of the Devil's Snare if Minamino got stuck too? He didn't want to be trapped with a lunatic in some Merlin-cursed dumb plant all night!  
  
"Are you in pain?" Minamino asked.  
  
Draco glared at him. How the hell was he supposed to answer that, with a clump of soggy, bad-tasting leaves in his mouth, and vines wrapped so tightly around his wrists they were probably leaving some really suggestive bruises, and did he mention he'd had a pounding anger headache before all this in the first place?  
  
Minamino reached over him, and brushed a fingertip against the vine holding Draco's right wrist. "Loosen up a bit," he instructed. Confusion flared in Draco for a split second, before all the vines holding him went slack. He instantly tried to pull away, and found they were still holding him firmly in place, just not painfully as before. He stared at Minamino in dawning horror. He still couldn't sense any spell on the vines, but Devil's Snare just did not let go on command!  
  
"I am in control of them," Minamino confirmed, empty eyes locked to Draco's shocked ones. "You're still in pain," he added, expressionless. Draco didn't get it. If he had control like that, had someone he disliked trapped and in pain, he wouldn't be so... so... unimpressed with himself. Would he?  
  
Minamino suddenly, smoothly, ran a hand through his hair. He crushed something between his fingers, eyes flicking to Draco, and blew it into the blond's face. Draco reared up against the vines, sputtering past his gag.  
  
"Better?"  
  
Draco sneezed, then sagged in his bonds, eyes closing in relief. The headache was gone. The relief was short-lived.  
  
"Now, Mr. Malfoy, I'm going to let you go... but first, I think we need to clear up a few misunderstandings." Draco's eyes flew open, as a wand stroked down the side of his face. "About defenestration--" De-what?! Draco tensed as his mind rapidly shuttered through the lesser-used parts of his vocabulary, and came up with 'throwing people out windows'. Oh. Wait, Minamino knew?! "-- and assumptions, and friends and enemies... and intimidation."  
  
Draco barely managed to keep from gulping. The redhead's voice had lowered on the last word, and there was something inherently menacing about the way he'd leaned closer to rest the wand on the pulse point at Draco's throat.  
  
"Defenestration. I do believe I have gotten my point across about that," Minamino said silkily, tapping Draco's pulse with the wand. Oh yeah, Draco got the point. Didn't mean he wouldn't try it again under better circumstances. Like maybe with backup. Or by proxy. "So... assumptions. Today has just been a bad day for you, hasn't it, Mr. Malfoy?" he continued.  
  
That was an understatement. The only way it could be worse would be if anyone had actually seen this. Draco was suddenly thankful for Crabbe and Goyle's gluttony, especially as Minamino leaned even closer, eyes bright with anger now.  
  
"You assumed that, because I was in Potter's compartment, I must have taken sides against you, without so much as knowing your name? I allowed you to insult my family -- a long, honorable, purely Japanese line, without a single gaijin Westerner among them -- to insult my honor in your ignorance--!" His hand fisted in Draco's shirt. "I held those two off you after you so blatantly provoked them-- perhaps I should have just let them thrash you!" He shoved Draco back into the mattress and sat up, putting his wand hand to his temple. "But I don't want to make enemies. I even fixed your headache after you tried to push me out the window."  
  
Draco's eyes focused on the wand. He lunged upwards futilely, temper flaring once again. It was his wand! The upstart prat was playing with his own wand!  
  
Minamino glanced at him, then followed Draco's eyes to the wand. The anger drained from his face.  
  
"Sou ka..." he murmured. "Perhaps this will get through to you, and I can let you up." So- what? Minamino held up Draco's wand.  
  
"This is dragon heartstring, correct?" Oh, great. Minamino was now playing Ollivander. Draco would have refused to answer if he'd had the option. Stupid leaves. "It must have been a dark, powerful dragon," Minamino murmured. That's what Ollivander had said. "Vicious and petty, as well," he added. Draco scowled. Ollivander had said that, too.  
  
Minamino held his free hand out and snapped his wrist. A second wand flew from his sleeve into his hand. He held them both up to show Draco. The new wand was smaller than Draco's, slimmer and more angular than any wand he'd ever seen.  
  
"Eastern style," Minamino answered Draco's unspoken question. "With a core of demon hair." Draco paled. De--demon? Like _demon_ demon? Creatures darker, and more dangerous, than werewolves and vampires? Minamino nodded slowly. "You would have noticed it in the first class, anyways. You quickly realized there was no spell on the vines, after all, did you not?" He stood, putting his wand back into his sleeve, and setting Draco's down on the nightstand. "If I wanted to make enemies, you do realize you would be considerably worse than shaken by now?" He tapped the nearest tendril of Devil's Snare, and the vine finally unwrapped from Draco's head. He spat the leaves out and tried to speak, only getting out a rasp. He nodded instead. Minamino poured a cup of water from his night-pitcher, and let Draco sip it.  
  
"So," Draco said roughly, once he'd had enough water to speak properly again, "what do you want? What was all that melodrama for?"  
  
Minamino blinked in surprise, as he set the cup back on the nightstand. "I would think that was obvious."  
  
"Enlighten me," Draco drawled, sneering.  
  
"Well, if I don't want to make enemies, maybe I want to make friends."  
  
Now Draco blinked. "You're joking."  
  
"Not at the moment," Minamino said, smiling.  
  
Draco opened his mouth to make a sharp retort, when Minamino's eyes widened slightly and he set his finger to his lips in a hushing gesture. Draco instinctively paused, obeying for the second Minamino needed to recognize whatever he seemed to be hearing.  
  
Minamino suddenly clutched at his vine, making shooing gestures with his free hand, and Draco found himself free and lying on Minamino's bed, with the vines nowhere in sight. The redhead quickly helped Draco up, pulling him around Goyle's bed and sitting him down on his own. The curtains around Minamino's bed shut themselves.  
  
"What--?"  
  
"Think about it. But don't take forever. We don't have it, okay?" He spun back to his own bed, digging a set of pajamas and a toiletry bag from his trunk, and left, brushing past Crabbe and Goyle just outside the door.  
  
The two glanced after Minamino, and entered the room with identical confused expressions. They looked at the new bed, then up at Draco expectantly.  
  
"Don't bother," Draco told them. "He's put wards on it already." Really, really good, unnerving wards. With Devil's Snare. He waved a hand lazily, faking nonchalance. "I'm working on it."  
  
They accepted that, and went to their own beds. Draco got up and headed to the prefect's bathroom.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Following a long bath, during which Kurama realized he'd have to rein in the "Youko" facets of his personality a bit more than he'd thought, he got dressed and headed for the sinks to brush his teeth. He was slightly surprised to find a wet-haired Draco Malfoy at one of them. Kurama had been alone in the bath area, and he hadn't heard a shower running.  
  
Draco was combing his hair, and the sleeve of his robe had slid down, fully revealing his wrist. Kurama could see the reddened imprints of vines in the pale skin, already starting to darken with bruising. He winced. That *had* to hurt. Impulsively, he dug into his bag and found a small jar.  
  
"Here," he said, setting the jar next to the sink. "It's a healing salve."  
  
"I don't accept charity," Malfoy snapped, throwing Kurama a furious glare.  
  
"I don't give charity," Kurama replied flatly. "I caused those. Use it or don't, it's up to you, but if you don't people will notice, and there'll be questions. Questions can be hazardous." He spun on his heel and left, catching the tangy scent of the salve just before the door fell shut behind him. It would seem that Malfoy had decided to use it. That was something, at least.  
  
Kurama's first night at Hogwarts was going well, but it had been a bit rough. Hopefully, the others were settling in more easily.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Hermione led the new Gryffindors along the simplest -- though not the most direct -- route to the Tower from the Great Hall (not counting one that only existed every other Tuesday, since today was Friday). The route had no trick staircases, no hidden doors, and led through just one secret passage on the fourth floor. It was just after they'd left this passage that Peeves found them.  
  
The first balloon smacked a little pigtailed girl in the head, splattering neon green paint over most of the children in the front of the group. They all spun as the second came flying through the air and hit Hiei in the chest, covering him in magenta from his headband to his trousers.  
  
"Peeves!" Harry and Hermione yelled. The poltergeist cackled with glee and blew a raspberry.  
  
"Don't make me get the Baron!" Hermione shouted.  
  
The hair on the back of Harry's neck prickled, as he felt the air suddenly getting hotter on one side of him. He glanced over, seeing only Yuusuke and Hiei. Yuusuke glanced at Hiei as well, and suddenly stepped forward, pushing back on Hiei's shoulder a bit in an unmistakable signal to stand down.  
  
"You think it's funny to pick on kids?" he asked, glaring up at the poltergeist.  
  
Peeves beamed nastily. "Don't gotta answer to students."  
  
Yuusuke brought up his right arm, finger pointing at the spirit, as Peeves brought out another balloon and reared back to throw it.  
  
"REI GUN!"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
By the time the new Gryffindors reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, the older students were frazzled for two reasons. One, the first-years had developed an excessively vocal mass case of hero-worship focused on Yuusuke. Two, it had taken the three boys and a silencing spell from Hermione to get Hiei away from the scene. Harry was sure the few words Hiei had gotten out weren't polite in Japanese, and was rather thankful they hadn't translated.  
  
"Mimbulus mimbletonia," Hermione said to the painting guarding the entrance. She looked tempted to just shove the first-years through the portrait. Harry knew he was. Unfortunately, Hermione took the rules too seriously for him to get away with it. Besides, they were just kids.  
  
She did, however, give Yuusuke and Hiei a push when they looked like they wanted to linger in the corridor. Harry let Hermione get up before the students to explain the rules, while he stepped back to stand near Ron.  
  
"What's with them?" Ron asked, nodding towards the new students.  
  
"We ran into Peeves on the way up."  
  
"Who'd he get?"  
  
"Hiei and the little girl next to Uremeshi. Paint balloons." Ron flicked a startled glance over the students. "Hermione cleaned them up," Harry added, then paused. "After Uremeshi knocked Peeves out."  
  
"He what?"  
  
"He pointed at him, yelled something that sounded like 'ray gun', and Peeves got blasted by a big ball of light."  
  
"Wow! I want to learn that spell!"  
  
"I don't think it was a spell. He wasn't using a wand."  
  
Ron blinked. "No wand?" Harry shook his head. "Did Fred and George put you up to this?"  
  
"No! Look, I know it sounds crazy, but it happened!"  
  
"What happened?" Neville asked. The other two hadn't noticed him walk up.  
  
"Uremeshi cast a spell without his wand and knocked Peeves out!" Ron said.  
  
"W-what? But that's impossible!" Neville said.  
  
"Ask him yourself," Harry grumbled, tilting his head to point out Yuusuke. Neville paled and began shaking his head violently. "Fine, ask one of the firsts. They saw it too." He pushed past Ron and went upstairs to his dorm.  
  
He first noticed the room had grown to accomodate three more beds. Then he realized Hiei was there as well, standing at the foot of one of the new beds. He had a faintly violet-glowing quill in his hand, and was carefully drawing on the bedpost.  
  
"HIEI!"  
  
"What?" Hiei dipped the quill into a small jar of ink and went back to working on the odd design.  
  
"You're, um..." Harry meant to say that they weren't allowed to draw on school property, but it struck him that it might not be what it seemed. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Wards."  
  
"What?"  
  
Hiei glanced at Harry like he was an idiot. "Protection spells."  
  
"But we're at Hogwarts."  
  
Hiei made a disdainful sound, added a precise swirl to the end of the pattern, and set the quill on the bed. The violet tinge faded away. Hiei brought his hand up, holding it parallel to and an inch from the top of the pattern, and slowly moved his hand downwards.  
  
"Now what are you doing?"  
  
"Activating them." Hiei sat down on his bed and faced Harry with a steadily disconcerting gaze. "You ask a lot of questions."  
  
"You do a lot of strange things." Hiei raised an eyebrow at the quick comeback, his faintly expectant smirk prompting Harry to add, "Like wandless magic."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Hiei snapped. The smirk stayed in place, taking the sting from the words. "Wandless magic is a toy for posturing old men."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. "You mean... anyone can do wandless magic?"  
  
Hiei just shook his head, still smirking, and leaned over to dig a black sweatsuit from his trunk. "Night."  
  
"But--"  
  
Hiei shut his curtains pointedly.  
  
Harry rocked back on his heels, hurt. He'd been trying to be nice to the smaller boy. Slowly, he changed into his own nightclothes, balled up his Invisibility Cloak under his pillow, and got into bed, pulling the curtains securely closed.  
  
"Nox," he said, snuffing out the light.  
  
Let the others think he'd gone to bed early. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done so. It also wouldn't be the first time he'd only pretended to be sleeping when the others came in. It was easier to roam the halls after hours if he wasn't missing at lights out.  
  
Later on... he'd find out what happened to Snape. Later.........  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Hiei went from a sound sleep to total awareness exactly when he'd planned, two hours after he'd first gone to bed. He counted the others in the room by their breathing and scent: three he didn't recognize, Harry and Ron, Yuusuke, and Kuwabara (who was snoring). All were sound asleep.  
  
He sat up, wincing at the overly loud rustle of the bedclothes, and slid his feet out of the bed and directly into his boots. He would have to add a low-level sound muffler to his wards. He took more care to be quiet as he opened his trunk and removed his katana from the dimensional pocket in the lid.  
  
Now armed and cloaked, he silently left the Tower and took to the rafters. He loosened his headband slightly, using a bit of the power of his third eye to better sense the intricate weave of the castle's magic, and began exploring his new territory.  
  
The security here was terrible, Hiei noted immediately. There were two different types of systems in place. The overt system, the one meant to be noticed, consisted of things like the living portraits and the moving staircases. Hiei was not impressed with this system. The Fat Lady on his own dormitory had been asleep, and hadn't so much as stirred when he'd left. A group portrait watching three hallways had been in a fistfight when he'd passed. Three of the four trick doors he'd found were even standing open.  
  
The second system was also less than acceptable. The dimensional fold to prevent teleportation was firmly in place, but there was no sign that transmission (teleportation using a spelled device, rather than one's own magic) had ever been protected against. He'd also found a number of fireplaces, including the one directly into the Gryffindor common room, that showed signs of being part of a communication and transmission network.  
  
At least teleportation was impossible, and the fireplaces could be monitored. It also looked as if the castle couldn't be blown up, contaminated with poisons or diseases, flooded, buried, burned, or otherwise harmed by natural disasters or simple assaults by human wizards. So they weren't completely defenseless, just mostly.  
  
Annoyed, Hiei landed on the narrow sill of a window high above the moving staircases. It was grimy and missing several tiny panes of glass, so he had to look through the holes to orient his position relative to the other parts of the school. As he marked off the nearer towers -- he'd mentally named the ones he'd found so far, and could see Gryffindor, Library, Astronomy, and Hollow -- he caught sight of a lone flier coming around the corner of the stairway atrium. He drew his katana slightly and tilted it, moonlight flashing from the exposed bit of the blade, and resheathed it as the flier angled towards him.  
  
"Hello?" Botan called softly, peering into the window. Hiei made no effort to hide himself. "Hello?" she repeated, a bit louder.  
  
"Their security is ridiculous," Hiei said flatly. Botan yelped, jerking her oar away from the window on reflex.  
  
"Hiei?" she asked, floating back up. "You scared me!"  
  
"What can you tell of the security outside?" he asked, ignoring her comment.  
  
"Um... there's not much on the windows. You can get in and out with an oar easily. I can't tell if they're just not spelled against fliers, or if the spells are specific to brooms so my oar's not covered..."  
  
"Inadequate window spells," Hiei summarized impatiently. "What else?"  
  
"Well," Botan said thoughtfully, "The forest isn't very 'forbidden'. No wards or anything keeping people out at all. I flew right over part of it."  
  
A whisper of magic brushed against Hiei, and he twitched irritably, brushing the nuisance away magically. It tried again, and he caught it and held it this time. A few seconds later, the sound of grinding stone echoed through the atrium. Hiei held up a hand to silence Botan and looked down. Several stories below, one of the staircases was pivoting on its upper landing: the second-level one leading to Gryffindor Tower. Hiei could easily see two robed figures hurrying down the steps.  
  
"Hiei?" Botan whispered. "What is it?"  
  
"Shut up." Another, more insistent tendril of power brushed Hiei, and he caught this one too. His eyes narrowed as he examined them. The first was a simple urging to leave the area. The second, the one that he'd caught after noticing the two people on the stairs, was a stronger compulsion to stay.  
  
Hiei darted down through the staircase atrium, knowing that he was moving so fast that the human eye would see the movement only as a series of flickers. He was dimly aware that Botan called after him, fortunately not loudly enough for human ears to pick up, and even that faded away somewhere near the fifth floor. Another wash of magic tried to direct Hiei away from an archway on the ground level. He subdued it and followed the trail, catching sight of the two students as they stepped into a tapestry.  
  
Darting after them before the magical entry could close, Hiei followed them at a discreet distance as they headed down a corridor lined with doors, each inscribed with the name of one of the teachers. The silly portrait-door system was unneeded here, each door covered in personal wards as uniquely identifying as fingerprints. So when the two students stopped at one particular door, Hiei didn't need to see the nameplate to tell it was Genkai's. He settled himself near the ceiling, in the shadow of a gargoyle, and watched as they brushed the flagstone in front of her door with a thin coat of something watery and gray, working together in silence with the ease of long practice. He faintly caught the scent of damp limestone as one capped and rehid the bottle in his robes. The other flicked his wand at the wet floor, drying it and presumably activating the trap, and they hurried off without so much as a thumbs-up to each other. The subtle, weak power trying to drive Hiei away faded and vanished.  
  
It wasn't Hiei's responsibility to watch out for Genkai. If she couldn't guard against a couple of human teenagers, Hiei wouldn't want her at his back in a fight. But... that didn't mean he couldn't look at the trap that had been so neatly and easily set for her.  
  
He leapt from his perch, careful to land outside the perimeter of the trap, and knelt down to examine it. His lips quirked upwards in a smirk as he scrutinized the inherent magical qualities of the potion's ingredients. None were malignant, and in fact they were precisely balanced to the safest combination, rather than the most effective.  
  
It would be amusing to see Genkai's face if this particular trap worked properly.  
  
Knowing that he could easily locate the two amusing miscreants again, Hiei decided to return to the dorms, so as to not raise any alarms. He retraced his steps, checking the atrium window to find Botan had flown on -- good --, and soon found himself back at the portrait of the Fat Lady. She didn't even twitch in her sleep when he said the password and entered. One would think they would at least use portraits that didn't sleep, he groused, as he returned to bed.  
  
  



	6. Subtitled Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast

  
The next day was Saturday, and unlike in Japan, there were no classes scheduled. Hiei snapped to wakefulness shortly after dawn, fully alert and well-rested, despite the oddness of sleeping in a twin-size, curtained, Western bed. He slid from it silently, though he probably could have practiced Kokuryuuha in the room without drowning out Kuwabara's snoring, and changed into loose black pants and a matching top he'd long since ripped the sleeves from. He added his boots and a white belt, using just one for a change, and spent all of a second considering taking his katana with him. But prudence won over his instinct to keep the weapon close, and he replaced it in the dimensional pocket in his trunk, taking out a wooden practice sword instead.  
  
Last night, he'd left the dorm the conventional way, using the door. This morning, though, he wasn't planning to stay indoors. He opened the window and looked down. The rooftop below the tower window seemed to be about a five-story drop, which was too far for him to make safely, but the windowsills of every dorm protruded a bit. He could use those. Hiei climbed out the window, closing it behind him, and paused for a moment to plan his approach. He then simply hopped off, twisting to face the building in the split second before he started to fall. He caught himself three levels below, catching a glimpse of sleeping second-years as he leapt back into open air. He jumped another level down, and landed soundlessly on the roof of the castle proper.  
  
He pivoted on the ball of the foot he'd landed on, striking out with the sword, then danced his way along the narrow ridgepole of the peaked roof, slashing at imaginary enemies on all sides. In a real battle, an instant's slip in his balance or his guard could be the difference between winning and dying. Here, the height of the building was the danger. It would have to suffice.  
  
Later, after the rising sun had burned off the morning mist, Hiei found he had mock-battled completely across the school, to a point near the Great Hall. He slid down the steeply pitched roof, knelt behind a gargoyle, and looked out over one of the school's courtyards. A large tree stood alone in the center of the space, about halfway between Hiei's perch and a gate in the castle's outer wall. A flash of red in one of the lower branches caught his eye.  
  
Hiei looped the practice sword through his belt and leapt to the ground, darting over to the tree and up into the leafy canopy. He found Kurama lying on his stomach on the widest branch, seemingly asleep. He nudged the fox with his foot, and Kurama rolled over onto his side, languidly opening one eye and focusing on Hiei.  
  
"You're sleeping in a tree," Hiei observed flatly.  
  
Kurama smiled lazily, and yawned. "Only since dawn," he said. "And I wasn't asleep."  
  
Hiei raised an eyebrow skeptically, and waited.  
  
"I was... for lack of a better word, recharging." He rolled to his back, stretching. "This tree has soooo much power... I could feel it all the way down in the Slytherin dorms."  
  
Hiei quirked a knowing smile. "Couldn't resist temptation?"  
  
"When have I ever?"  
  
Hiei shrugged, then folded himself into a seated position on the branch, automatically drawing the practice sword up to lean against his shoulder, ready in case of attack. He watched Kurama curiously, the fox unbothered by the scrutiny, and tried to see just what Kurama was doing.  
  
It didn't occur to Hiei to simply ask how Kurama was 'recharging'. It wasn't the demon way to give information for free, particularly about their own power levels and limits, at least not for any demon who wanted to survive the week. Likewise, though, it wasn't the demon way to ignore any chance to figure out another's secrets.  
  
In the years since they had met, Hiei had deduced that Kurama couldn't draw on the power of a life, plant or animal, nor could he use the power of anything else. He could stimulate the growth and characteristics of plant with his own power, store that power in the plant to leave it in the enhanced state, and take most of it back, but Hiei wasn't yet clear on Kurama's limits about retrieving the power.  
  
"What did you do?" Hiei asked suddenly. Protecting his bed should have used only a negligible amount of Kurama's power, certainly not enough to require 'recharging'.  
  
"Spyeyes. Security camera vines," Kurama replied. "Every level below ground. Every corridor, every room..."  
  
Hiei tensed at the thought of just how much power that many kilometers of vine would need from the redhead, even if it had been a quick-growing plant, which spyeye definitely was not. Factoring in the difficulty of directing and placing the flowers in useful positions, and keeping them from the notice of the castle's ambient magics and the eyes of the students...  
  
"You idiot," Hiei grumbled.  
  
"It was necessary," Kurama murmured, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "And I'll be finishing tonight."  
  
"You won't have enough power for that," Hiei snapped. Kurama peeked out from between his fingers.  
  
"We'll see," he said, far too pleasantly. Hiei shifted warily -- that was the tone that Kurama used when he was being an unpredictable bastard -- but the redhead simply pushed himself upright and twisted to sit with his legs dangling from the branch, ankles primly crossed. "What did you do last night?" he asked calmly.  
  
"Reconnaissance." Hiei glowered at the thought, and curtly began repeating his observations about the security.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Harry woke slowly to sunlight. He rolled over, squinting, getting his face out of the narrow beam streaming through a crack in his bedcurtains. Bloody hell, he'd fallen asleep!  
  
A crash and a furious yell brought Harry bolt upright, and he shoved his curtains aside as someone else started laughing uproariously. Everything was blurry, but Harry was able to see vague shapes, colors, and movement. Someone with orange hair -- too big to be Ron, and yelling with Kuwabara's voice, therefore it was Kuwabara -- was on the floor beside one of the new beds. A short figure with dark hair -- Yuusuke -- was the one laughing, standing over the larger boy. Harry scrabbled for his glasses.  
  
"I, the great Kuwabara Kazuma, will not stand for this indignity!"  
  
"Whatever." Uremeshi yawned.  
  
Kuwabara pounced, and before Harry could figure out what was happening the pair were embroiled in a fistfight. It lasted for quite a while -- during which time Harry found his glasses -- and ended with Uremeshi perched, still yawning, on Kuwabara's chest. He stretched and stood, jovially clapping a fuming Kuwabara on the shoulder as the taller boy sat up, nursing a bloody nose.  
  
"Now you've got an excuse to talk to Yu-ki-na," Yuusuke commented, drawling the girl's name almost mockingly. Kuwabara didn't notice, as his face took on a goofy expression.  
  
Harry stared incredulously as the two Japanese boys gathered up their bath things and left the room, as calmly as if they hadn't just had a fight.  
  
"Okay... anyone else think those two are completely barmy?" Ron asked from his bed, raising his hand.  
  
Four more hands joined his in the air.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
"Race you to breakfast," Kurama said, standing poised farther out on their branch, not quite at the point where it would snap under his weight.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Hiei said flatly, still at the same spot he'd been sitting. "I can run faster than you."  
  
"Humor me."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Kurama smiled sweetly. "Because one," he raised a finger, "I feel like a run, and two," he added a second finger, "We're going to be late for breakfast." He stepped off the branch, landing easily in a crouch.  
  
Hiei rolled his eyes and flickered to the ground as Kurama kicked off into a run. He followed, deliberately matching the pace Kurama set. He noticed with some amusement that the redhead was careful to run just slightly faster than a human could. What was Kurama up to?  
  
They burst through the side entrance to the building, and Kurama turned them left, then left again.  
  
"Do you have any idea where you're going?" Hiei asked.  
  
"None!" Kurama answered cheerfully. He turned another corner and leapt into the empty space over an unexpected down-staircase. Hiei veered to the side and sped down its bannister. They cleared a janitor scrubbing the landing, though Hiei had to sidestep the human's cat. Its claws skidded over his bootheel. They darted into the side corridor at the base of the stairs and out of sight, the custodian yelling imprecations in their wake.  
  
"How unimaginative," Kurama said of the janitor's threats, his eyes bright with pleasure. Hiei flicked a glance behind them.  
  
"The thrill of the chase," he said drily. "I don't suppose you can run any faster?" he challenged.  
  
Kurama glanced back as well. "I can outrun a cat." Hiei raised an eyebrow in disbelief, goading Kurama to run faster.  
  
They turned another corner, and started passing students making their own hurried way to (presumably) the Great Hall. The numbers increased with every turn, and it was growing more difficult to avoid them. Hiei risked a glance at Kurama, and found the fox visibly delighted. An effect of whatever he'd been doing with the tree, perhaps, but more likely a sign that Youko was feeling playful and Kurama wasn't quite up to keeping himself under wraps. Or perhaps Kurama was always like this when he was immersed in magic and not on business? He never had seen Kurama outside the -- what did they call it, Muggle -- world, except on serious matters.  
  
Kurama beamed over at him, and then, without warning--  
  
Collided with a warm, yielding, black wall.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
"Harry, what are we looking for?" Hermione asked. "We should be guiding the first-years to the Great Hall."  
  
"Yeah, what's so important it couldn't wait until after breakfast?"  
  
Harry ignored his friends, slipping into the Infirmary with them on his heels.  
  
"Is this about what you wanted to check last night? What was it, anyway? Harry!"  
  
"Hermione, keep it down!" Harry hissed urgently. "There's a patient."  
  
"You sound relieved," Hermione accused him, though she did lower her volume.  
  
"I'm not. Trust me."  
  
Harry wasn't, exactly. He reached the last bed, and took hold of the curtain. Hermione made a worried little sound, but Harry just nudged it slightly out of the way to peer behind it. His eyes widened, and he yanked the curtain aside, revealing an empty, rumpled bed.  
  
"Well, there was a patient."  
  
At that moment, Madame Pomfrey bustled in, carrying two neatly labeled bottles. She took one look at the three of them, set down her burden on one of the bedside tables, and came over to shoo them out.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Kurama stumbled back in shock, feeling Hiei pivot on one foot behind him, out of his way. You're human, play human! Kurama's mind screamed. He purposely shifted his weight too far and fell on his backside, the impact audibly jarring the breath from his lungs.  
  
After a moment, he looked up into two black-topped, dark-eyed, frowning faces: Hiei's, and a stranger's; a man dressed all in black, his skin the color of bone, with a nose that would make any oni proud. Kurama wrinkled his own nose. The man smelled faintly of illness, with traces of smoke and noxious things.  
  
Hiei flicked a disdainful glance at the stranger, then looked back down at Kurama and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"What have we here?" the man sneered. Kurama got the bad feeling that the man knew exactly what they had there. "Flagrant disregard for the rules; self-important expressions --" Had the man never looked in a mirror? "-- too old to be first-years, and Japanese. You must be our new Defense professor's pet students. I see her reputation as a disciplinarian is undeserved."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Running in the halls, five points and detention." His eyes flicked over Kurama's buttondown shirt and slacks, both flecked with bark, and Hiei's sweaty tank top and matching pants. "Inappropriate attire, five points. Clumsiness, five points."  
  
Kurama's jaw dropped. "Sir!"  
  
The man's gaze shifted to Hiei. "Each," he added pointedly.  
  
Hiei's expression darkened. "Who the hell are you to do that?"  
  
"Hiei!"  
  
"I am Professor Snape, and five more points for language," the man replied, taking obvious pleasure in adding to the punishment.  
  
Kurama let his human persona fully take over, before things could get any worse. "Yes sir," he said. "Sorry for the trouble. We'll go get changed." He caught Hiei by the arm and steered him around the professor.  
  
"I did not dismiss you, gentlemen." They froze, Snape's voice as effective as the crack of a whip. He paused, then continued silkily, "It may seem a heathen custom to you, but in this country, we expect our students to supply their names... instead of attempting to avoid their deserved punishments."  
  
As if Snape had given them the chance to introduce themselves!  
  
"Well? Names and Houses!"  
  
Kurama tightened his grip on Hiei's bicep, nodding imperceptibly.  
  
"Hiei Jaganshi. Gryffindor," the little demon snarled.  
  
"Kurama Minamino. Slytherin."  
  
There was an icy silence. Turning slightly, curious, Kurama looked over his shoulder. The man looked as though he had been robbed of a treat he had been particularly looking forward to.  
  
"You're in Slytherin?" he demanded a low, dangerous voice.  
  
"Yes, sir," Kurama answered calmly. He didn't dare ask if that was a problem, though from Snape's visibly growing disgust, it was.  
  
"Dismissed," Snape bit out. Kurama all but bolted, keeping himself just barely at a walking pace, slipping around the first corner he came to. There was a boys' bathroom a few meters down, and Kurama ducked into this in relief.  
  
"What the hell was that?" Hiei snapped, the instant the door clicked shut.  
  
"That," Kurama replied, just as hotly, "was keeping suspicions down. We are normal, teenage, ningen students, remember?" He pushed himself off the door and went over to the sink, running the taps. "I'd rather not have that man watching any of us too closely. He's the type to actually notice anything... strange. Most everyone else will accept oddities as simply different customs and whatnot."  
  
Hiei growled.  
  
"We can't do that, Hiei. You know that." Kurama upended a pitcher-leaf full of water over Hiei's head.  
  
"HEY--!"  
  
"Steam-clean yourself. We don't actually have the time to go back and change. Snape will be watching, and he'll take points for running if we change, being late if we don't run, or inappropriate attire if we're still dirty."  
  
Hiei glowered, but let off a short flare of heat. Kurama stepped back from the resulting cloud of scorching, salt-laced steam, and looked him over.  
  
"Not perfect, without soap, but it'll do," Kurama said decisively. He extended just the tiniest fragment of his plant magic, convincing the bark -- well, what remained on his clothes after the hell-bent-for-leather run -- to migrate to the hems and cuffs of his clothing. Then, he gave the cloth a quick flick, dislodging the debris. Kurama looked back up into Hiei's face, which was blanker than usual. The smaller demon was likely more impressed by Kurama's little display than he cared to admit. Kurama smiled sweetly, knowing it would only irritate Hiei more.  
  
It worked like a charm.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
"Kazuma, please, you need to hold still," Yukina said urgently.  
  
Harry dragged his eyes away from the professor's table. The tiny girl, distinctive in the crowd in a pale blue witch's robe rather than the more common dark colors, was hovering worriedly next to Kuwabara, hands not quite touching his face. She seemed afraid to touch him, as if she would inevitably touch one of the rising bruises.  
  
"I'm all fine, Yukina," Kuwabara said, the soft tone in his voice belying the brutishness of his appearance. "You don't need to worry about me."  
  
"But you're so bruised! Your face must be very painful."  
  
"Not when I look at you."  
  
Harry saw a second year boy pretending to gag nearby, but, for some reason, was not inclined to agree with the boy. He had seen a number of such displays between his aunt and uncle, but those had a certain hollow quality reminiscent of Muggle television. Kuwabara and Yukina, though, actually seemed sincere.  
  
A commotion at the door attracted Harry's attention, though not the Japanese couple's. Harry turned away to see Hiei making a furious bee-line for the table, with Kurama following close behind him. Both students stood out among the throng they were elbowing through, since they were dressed in muggle clothing; Hiei's shirt, shockingly, didn't even have sleeves. Harry curiously noted that the short boy's right arm was bandaged from wrist to bicep. Had he been the missing patient?  
  
"What are you doing?!" Hiei growled, glaring murderously into Kuwabara's bruised face.  
  
"Calm down, Hiei," Kurama murmured, catching the smaller boy by the shoulders. Hiei jerked free sharply.  
  
"I will not calm down!"  
  
Kurama caught him again and pressed him firmly onto the bench. "Sit."  
  
Hiei twisted and smacked Kurama's hands away, as Kuwabara said, "Yeah, shrimp. Yukina was only concerned about my black eye." Hiei glared suspiciously at the other three Japanese boys. Kurama gave him a stern look when Hiei's glare landed on him, but made no move to touch Hiei again, and in turn Hiei made no move to get up.  
  
"What's with you this morning, man?" Uremeshi asked.  
  
"I was teasing him a bit this morning, and then we ran into a rather... unpleasant member of the faculty," Kurama explained.  
  
"You ran into him," Hiei clarified, sourly. "Literally."  
  
Uremeshi snapped upright. "You're kidding!" he said, audibly amused. Hiei didn't answer. "No, you wouldn't. Geez. Literally?"  
  
Kurama looked away. "A teacher who wasn't here last night. He's... ah, up there at the professor's table. The tall one in black, with the dark hair and the interesting nose. He's got Hiei's temper, only none of his restraint."  
  
Snape?! Harry snapped his head around to see the dais, as did the other nearby Gryffindors.  
  
"I knew it was good to be true, last night," Ron muttered. The others made sounds of agreement, not noticing as Harry sagged a bit in relief. The dream had been wrong. He hadn't been seeing Voldemort after all!  
  
.... had he?


	7. Of Shedding, Dreams, and Proficiency

  
  
Kurama sat down at the Slytherin table under suspicious, unfriendly glares.  
  
"So...." one of the fifth-year girls asked sweetly, "What's it like?"  
  
Kurama turned to her curiously. "What's what like?"  
  
"Slumming. Associating with Mudbloods and muggle-lovers," she clarified.  
  
Kurama reached up, brushing his fingertips against his translation earring. "I'm sorry, Miss...?"  
  
"Pansy Parkinson." The breakfast platters magically filled with food as she spoke.  
  
"Miss Parkinson. That can't have translated right. Mud...blood? What's that?"  
  
She huffed at his denseness, and began ladling food onto her plate. "Muggle-borns, of course!"  
  
Kurama smiled, and started filling his own plate. "Oh, I see! Dirty heritage. We call that sort, um... 'harm-born'. Roughly."  
  
"Oh! So you do understand!" Pansy beamed.  
  
He most certainly did understand. The word he'd given her didn't refer to muggleborn Japanese wizards. Of course, the harm-born Slytherins didn't have to know that.  
  
"But if you understand, why were you at the Gryffindor table?" she continued. Parkinson was clearly the interrogator of the group this morning, and Malfoy was doing nothing to stop the questioning. Kurama would have expected nothing else from the boy.  
  
"Is there a reason I shouldn't have been?"  
  
"Gryffindor is nothing but Mudbloods and muggle-lovers," she spat. Kurama's eyes went wide, and after a stunned moment he went into a fit of quiet laughter, stifled behind his hand. "What?" she asked, offended.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Parkinson. I was just trying to imagine Hiei as a muggle," another snicker, "-lover! He barely tolerates us!" He slowly brought his laughter under control, though a bright, amused smile remained on his face. "Anyway, your question, about why I was over there..." He paused, and lowered his voice, wicked amusement lacing his words as he said cryptically, "I was diffusing the situation. It's going to be a very... interesting year for the Gryffindors, with those three in residence, but I'd rather it not start by disrupting my breakfast." He tapped his chopsticks against his rice bowl pointedly.  
  
The Slytherins stared at him blankly, uncomprehending.  
  
"What do you mean?" Pansy pressed.  
  
"You'll see."  
  
A shift in the air distracted Kurama from toying with his House, and he looked up as several hundred owls, night-silent in their flight, swooped into the Great Hall. There must be some sort of entryway for them in the rafters, he thought, watching as the birds dropped letters and parcels onto the tables and into students' laps.  
  
Malfoy recieved two owls. One was a plain bird with a copy of the paper, similar to most of the birds in the Hall, but the other was a large, fierce black owl with the arrogance of a hawk. It carried a large box, which Malfoy opened with the assurance that this was his due, revealing a multitude of expensive-looking trinkets and candies. Kurama peered at them curiously, noting that Malfoy was subtly displaying them for the table to view -- probably to foster envy.  
  
"Jealous, Minamino?" he sneered.  
  
"Curious," Kurama corrected mildly. "I don't think I've ever seen any of those things."  
  
"Oh? Are you that poor?"  
  
"No, but most of the products I've seen since I arrived aren't sold in Tokyo," Kurama replied. The boy really needed to learn the art of subtlety.  
  
The blond scowled, and turned away, closing his box so Kurama couldn't see into it anymore. The rest of breakfast passed in unpleasant silence, with the nearby Slytherins taking their cue from the now-sulking blond.  
  
Kurama 'appropriated' Malfoy's paper on the way out.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
After breakfast, when a number of giggling Hufflepuff girls had swept Yukina away from Kuwabara, Hiei ditched the rest of the students and returned to the tapestry he'd entered last night.  
  
The entrance was closed. Damn! He hadn't actually seen what the pranksters had done the night before to open it, and now he was stuck. Genkai should've given them a password!  
  
/You little human hag shit,/ he hissed at the tapestry, in one of the Makai dialects. Most were much more satisfying to curse in than the mild, bland-sounding human ones, and this particular one was his favorite.  
  
The tapestry obediently opened. Hiei wasted a split second in shock before darting through and down the hallway to Genkai's door. The trap had been set off, he noticed, before he growled at the door in the same language.  
  
/Open!/ The door did so, and Hiei stepped through, stopping when he caught sight of the old woman. She sat on her knees before a low table covered with scrolls of parchment, making notes on a sheet of rice paper and apparently oblivious to the thick, neon orange fur covering her skin up to her eyes. A pile of matching, shed fur encircled her, nearly an inch thick.  
  
"Come in, Hiei," she said, unnecessarily.  
  
"You set the password to an entire language," Hiei snapped, somewhat mollified by amusement at Genkai's furry predicament.  
  
"It's temporary," Genkai said absently. "I'll change it to something all of you can remember later. What did you want?"  
  
"Fix the security."  
  
"I just told you I would."  
  
"The castle security," Hiei clarified, "not your stupid password."  
  
"Make a list of the problems and I'll bring it up to the Headmaster. Don't go trying to fix it yourself. No mere student could." She picked up a scroll from the far side of the table and thrust it at him. "And read this. We've got bigger problems than a few weak wards."  
  
Hiei raised an eyebrow, but unrolled the parchment and began reading it. Ten seconds later, he lowered it. "This is a joke."  
  
"You'd think that, wouldn't you. There's an entire year's worth of Defense wasted on that Lockhart's ego, and next to no remedial work done in the two years since." She checked another scroll, a color-blocked chart of some sort, against her notes. "If we're lucky, whoever did this," she gestured towards her orange facial fur, "makes a habit of such pranks, and has honed their classmates' reflexes. Perhaps I'll recruit him or her to do exactly that."  
  
"Them."  
  
"Oh?" Genkai raised an eyebrow, getting only haughty silence out of Hiei. "I see. I'll find the culprits myself." She paused. "Was there anything else?"  
  
"The new password."  
  
Genkai thought for a moment. "Greedy's paper-pushing brat."  
  
Hiei's eyebrow shot up at the most polite youkai reference to Koenma, and he slowly smirked. "Not bad."  
  
"Good. Scram."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
"All right, Harry. Now will you tell us why you dragged us to the Infirmary this morning?"  
  
Harry turned away from his view of the Quidditch pitch, raising an eyebrow at Hermione. "It wasn't anything. Just a mistake," he said.  
  
"Nonsense. You were sure there was someone there, weren't you? Someone we know. And there was, though we didn't see who." Harry looked down towards his feet as Hermione spoke. "Who was it, Harry?"  
  
"Just my imagination. Just--" He cut the rest off.  
  
"Just what, Harry?" Hermione asked gently.  
  
"A dream," he muttered.  
  
Ron cocked his head. "The one that left you sick?" he asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Why would a dream make you think someone was in the infirmary?" Hermione asked. "What happened? Was it You-Know-Who?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Who was hurt?" she pressed.  
  
Harry held his silence for a moment, then sighed, and muttered, "Snape."  
  
"SNAPE?!" Ron and Hermione yelped.  
  
"But Harry, Professor Snape is just fine," Hermione pointed out.  
  
"I know that!" Harry snapped. "Just not until breakfast," he added, more calmly.  
  
Hermione and Ron looked at each other. "You're not quite acting like you know it, though," Hermione said.  
  
"I..." Harry began. "I don't... it seemed real; it still does..."  
  
"But it didn't leave you sick," Ron said reasonably. "Your other dreams of him have."  
  
"No, just the one did," Harry told him. "They usually leave my scar sore, but that goes away pretty quick."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Did this one hurt your scar?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Don't remember," Harry lied. He wanted this over with, but he didn't know whether he'd prefer to drop it, or get it out in the open so someone else could try to make sense of it.  
  
"All right, then," Hermione said decisively. "What happened in the dream?"  
  
It looked like dropping it wasn't going to be an option. "I don't remember much," Harry murmured. Mercifully, Hermione didn't point out that he remembered enough to be upset, as he paused to put the fading images in order. "I was following a snake," he said finally. "His snake. We went into a room, and there were Death Eaters, and Vold... You-Know-Who was there. He started calling them by name, and the snake was making comments, and the last one was Snape." Ron started, but Harry caught his eyes, and Ron remained silent. "The snake called him a traitor, a spy, and wanted to bite him; I remember that much. Then He cast something, and Snape collapsed, and... I woke up."  
  
Hermione waited a beat, then asked, "What did he cast? An Unforgiveable?"  
  
"Um... yes? I think. I..." Harry concentrated, letting his eyes fall shut. That was one of the foggier bits of the dream. Voldemort had said something about letting Snape spy, then about beating death, and Snape's usefulness... "Usefulness is at an end..." Harry murmured, remembering. The mask had fallen, revealing Snape's face. "I live, Severus, and you... won't. Crucio." Harry opened his eyes. "That's what he cast."  
  
"Cruciatus," Hermione confirmed. "The pain curse. That wouldn't have killed him immediately, though how he got away..."  
  
Ron looked searchingly at Harry. "D'you remember that, Harry? I mean, how the slimy git got away?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "I woke up when he collapsed."  
  
The three of them stared at each other for a few minutes. Then, Ron slung a friendly arm around Harry's shoulders. "So, Harry, pal... Would you care to explain why this is the first we've heard of this little incident?"  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
After lunch, Kurama stood alongside his teammates in a short line on the grounds before the school. He alternately eyed the sharp-faced, yellow-eyed woman facing them, and the brooms lying neatly before them. He ignored Genkai, standing between them and the castle like a scowling Muggle construction barrel. She was certainly the right color at the moment. Past her, he could sense a few curious students peeping out from windows, or the top of the wall, or the front gate.  
  
The professor, who'd introduced herself as Madam Hooch, glared at them all impartially. "Unlike other classes, mine does not run through fifth year. You will either pass, or you will be placed in remedial lessons. Stand to the left of a broomstick, hold your hand out over it, and say 'Up!'," she commanded.  
  
Dubiously, Kurama stepped forward. He really didn't expect this to work. Only Botan had the kind of magic that lent itself to levitation, though Keiko might as well. They hadn't had the time to test the human girl's abilities yet.  
  
He held his right hand out over the broomstick, seeing everyone else do the same out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"UP!" the tantei chorused.  
  
Showers of incandescent sparks exploded from the brooms. Kurama staggered back, squinting through the glare, his arms up to block the stinging sparks from his face, as the girls shrieked and Kuwabara yelped.  
  
"What the HELL--?!" Yuusuke shouted.  
  
Past his spread fingers, Kurama dimly saw Botan's broom shoot into the sky, riderless. A moment later, Hiei's broom burst into flame, and all the brooms stopped throwing out sparks.  
  
Kurama cautiously lowered his arms, wary eyes flicking from his broom -- which had put out shoots and leaf buds, and now resembled a bush rather than a broom -- to his teammates. Hiei was irritably collecting the fire, handful by handful, and banishing it before it got into the grass and went out of control. Yukina was half-hidden behind Kuwabara, peering at the flattened lump of ice gluing her broom to the ground.  
  
Surprisingly, Yuusuke's broom was hovering obediently a meter off the ground, and Botan's... ah, yes, it had taken off. Kurama looked up, and saw the riderless broom slowly doing loops ten stories above them.  
  
"I'm so terribly sorry!" Botan gasped to Madam Hooch. She bowed low to the shocked professor. "I'll go get it!"  
  
"Absolu--"  
  
Botan flicked her wrist, summoning her oar, and shot away.  
  
"--tely not!" Madam Hooch finished. "Shinime!"  
  
"Madam Hooch, if I may," Genkai began, "this is their first actual casting of Western magic. I think I know where the problem is. Let me get them straightened out, so you can finish the test without further damage to school property."  
  
Madame Hooch nodded curtly, and Genkai stepped forward, barking orders.  
  
"Miss Koorime, defrost your broom. Uremeshi, Kuwabara, Yukimura, remove yours before they catch fire from Jaganshi's. Minamino, if you would, there are more brooms in the shed by the Quidditch pitch; fetch two to replace yours and Jaganshi's." Kurama ran off.  
  
By the time Kurama returned, Botan had wrestled her broom back to the ground, and Yukina had managed to free hers from her ice without damaging it. The group had moved the line back to clear ground, and Kurama set the replacements down and faced Genkai.  
  
The old woman's face was blank as she eyed the seven of them. "Can any of you tell me what you did wrong?" Silence. "What did the professor tell you to do?"  
  
"Hold our hands out over the brooms and say "up"," Yuusuke grumbled.  
  
"And what did you do?" Genkai continued. "Aside from that?"  
  
Kurama blinked in realization as the humans shifted uneasily, and raised his hand. "We reached into them with our magic as well."  
  
Genkai's eyes flicked to him. "Did Madam Hooch tell you to do that?"  
  
"No, Professor."  
  
"Then WHY DID YOU DO IT?" she snapped. She didn't wait for anyone to reply. "You've just discovered the fundamental difference to Western magic. Try again, and this time, stick to the surface."  
  
The tantei stepped forward once more. "UP!"  
  
Unsurprisingly, this time Botan's broom leapt smartly into her hand. Hiei's and Yuusuke's did as well, with Kurama's floating into his outstretched hand a second later. The tip of Keiko's broom lifted, but the bristles remained on the ground, until it was standing upright. Kuwabara's rolled on the ground, and Yukina's stayed still.  
  
Madam Hooch took over once more. "Again."  
  
"Up!" Yukina, Kuwabara, and Keiko repeated. Keiko's broom began sweeping the grass vigorously, while Kuwabara's broom rolled up next to Yukina's. Hiei hissed under his breath.  
  
"Command your broom, don't cajole it," Madam Hooch ordered. "Again!"  
  
This time, all the brooms came to their hands.  
  
"Better. Mount up." She walked the length of their line, correcting their grips. "Miss Shinime, why are you sitting sidesaddle?"  
  
"This is how I was taught, Professor," Botan answered.  
  
"It won't work for a British broom. Remount correctly." She waited a moment, then checked Botan's grip. "Excellent," she said more quietly. "Go slowly until you get used to the way a foreign broom handles. None of what you pulled getting this one to the ground, understand?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
The professor raised her voice once more. "When I blow my whistle, you are to kick off from the ground, rise a few feet, then lean forward slightly and come straight down. Three... two... one!"  
  
Madam Hooch drilled them for the next twenty minutes in taking off, landing, and turning the brooms. Finally, satisfied with their ability to not get themselves killed, she blew her whistle and ordered them to fly in a large circle around her, doing whatever they felt comfortable with.  
  
Botan kicked off and shot five stories into the air, doing a barrel roll on the way up, then spiraled up another several meters and began doing vertical loops.  
  
"Can't let her hog all the fun," Yuusuke said cheerfully, kicking off to arrow towards the ferrygirl. Hiei and Kurama followed, a bit more slowly. They reached Yuusuke, hovering off to one side under Botan, watching the ferrygirl try to combine her loops with a corkscrew turn.  
  
"She's certainly putting that broom through its paces," Kurama murmured appreciatively.  
  
"She's psycho." Yuusuke turned to them with a wicked grin. "Want to thread the needle?"  
  
"Pardon?" Kurama hadn't heard that right, had he?  
  
"Thread the needle," Yuusuke repeated, pointing up at Botan. "Before she gets bored of looping around."  
  
Hiei snorted. "You're 'psycho'." He smirked. "Let's."  
  
Yuusuke glanced towards Kurama expectantly.  
  
Kurama shook his head, smiling as he declined. "I think I should stay to catch Botan when you crash into her."  
  
"Whatever, man," Yuusuke retorted. "You're just jealous." He zipped off, Hiei close on his heels, and they darted neatly through Botan's loop, Yuusuke tugging lightly at the girl's dangling ponytail on the way.  
  
"Yuusuke, you rat!" Botan shrieked, clutching at her scalp and skittering sideways. Kurama chuckled behind his hand as Yuusuke turned tail and flew for his life, with Botan in outraged pursuit.  
  
The kitsune glanced down, idly curious about the general reaction to their antics. Even from his high vantage, Kurama could tell that the flight instructor was Not Amused, and judging by the look she cast after Genkai, was wondering what was so special about this group of adolescents.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Hiei made sure that he walked near Yukina as they returned to the castle. The others were bounding ahead, excited, laughing, and windblown, thrilled at their successful use of Western magic. Hiei himself was surprised, noting that this magic was nothing like the Jagan or his fire.  
  
As if reading his thoughts, Yukina's soft, but exceedingly happy voice interrupted his thoughts. "That was the first time that I've done magic that wasn't ice or healing. It was...strange." Hiei glanced over at his sister, eyebrow raised. She lifted her eyes, smiling shyly. "And exhilarating."  
  
"It was," he responded. They reached the door to the school as it was closing behind the rest of the group. Hiei caught it and held it open for Yukina as they entered.  
  
"To fly..." she murmered. "I never imagined I would."  
  
Hiei had. As an infant, learning his fire magic too young and too fast, he'd tried to teach himself to soar like a spark from a bonfire. He'd never mastered the technique, but what little he could manage had saved his life more than once.  
  
He offered a slight nod of agreement, but Yukina turned pensive once more.  
  
"Oniisan... the other magics... do you think...?" She turned a familiar, hopeful look on Hiei, and he winced. "Might they--"  
  
"Hi!" A hand clapped down on each of Hiei's shoulders. He stiffened, clamping down on the instinct to attack, and glared up at the offenders flanking him. He recognized the pair who'd booby-trapped Genkai's door last night. They were beaming at Yukina.  
  
"You're Yukina Koorime, aren't you?" one asked.  
  
"It's nice to meet you! I'm Fred, he's my twin George!" the other said, not giving her a chance to answer.  
  
"Nice to have another set of twins in the school, isn't it?"  
  
"The Patils are nice enough, but they don't care for us much."  
  
"Can't imagine why."  
  
"D'you mind if we borrow your brother for a minute?" They tugged Hiei away as Yukina murmured that they could.  
  
"Let go!" Hiei snarled ineffectively.  
  
"Can't do that, sorry," Fred told him.  
  
"We need to talk to you," George added.  
  
"Nice flying, by the way."  
  
"We saw you on the pitch."  
  
"You should try out for Quidditch."  
  
"And Uremeshi, too."  
  
"We won't judge against you for ratting us out to the teachers."  
  
"But we don't appreciate that sort of thing."  
  
"Even though we got points out of it."  
  
Hiei blinked. Their rapid-fire dialogue was disorienting. "What?"  
  
Fred grinned. "Five points for successfully pulling a prank on Genkai."  
  
"And detention. But we're used to that."  
  
"No," Hiei snapped. "What do you mean, 'ratting you out'?"  
  
The twins stopped. "You told Genkai we did it!"  
  
"The hell I did!" He twisted loose, incensed. He would never give out that much information, not for the low amount she could pay! "I said there was more than one, that's it."  
  
Fred and George shared a look.  
  
"Who else would've told her?" George asked.  
  
"Who else would've blamed us first?"  
  
They sighed, and simultaneously answered, "Everyone."  
  
"She got us," George groaned.  
  
"She did indeed," Fred agreed, his eyes brightening. "How ever shall we respond?" Their mouths started to curve wickedly.  
  
Hiei smirked. "Enjoy detention."  
  
"We will!"  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
It was incredible. It was wonderful. It was perfect.  
  
And best of all, Draco hadn't had to make it up.  
  
He listened in vindictive pleasure as his House tore into dinner and the beginnings of the transfer students' flight exam with equal fervor. The most disastrous starts, and therefore the best ones to insult, had been Minamino's and Jaganshi's. Draco could rip into that bastard Minamino in public without singling himself out for retaliation.  
  
"It's just terrible," Pansy cooed, oozing false sympathy across the table at Minamino. "It must be so embarrassing for you, ruining your broom like that! Even Longbottom never damaged his back in first year!"  
  
That was a brilliant point. Pansy was in excellent form tonight, Draco thought.  
  
"I do hope they aren't charging you for it," she added. "Broomsticks are terribly expensive."  
  
Minamino smiled weakly at her. "So I've noticed. The Silver seemed ridiculously high-priced. One would think it was formal kimono."  
  
Draco ignored the strange comment. "Can't you afford it, Minamino?" he sneered.  
  
"With my pocket money?" the redhead replied. "Of course not. I'm going to have to write 'Kaasan. Do you know if Gringotts will exchange yen?"  
  
"They don't," Draco lied smugly.  
  
Minamino's face fell. "Oh. That is unfortunate. What about okane?"  
  
"I'm afraid not."  
  
"Such backwards creatures, goblins," Minamino grumbled. He turned a charming smile on Draco, and the blond tensed. "You seem very knowledgable, Mr. Malfoy." Draco relaxed slightly. "Most wizards wouldn't even know the difference between okane and yen. It's refreshing that you do."  
  
Draco raised his chin haughtily. It was about time Minamino began to behave properly towards him. "I try to keep abreast of these things. It's that sort of knowledge that sorts the wheat from the chaff."  
  
"Very true. I was wondering, though..." The redhead's smile sweetened. "Since you know the difference between okane and yen, perhaps you can explain to me the difference between Galleons and money?"  
  
Draco flushed in outrage.  
  
"And on that note, gentlemen," Minamino stood, smiling directly at Draco, "I believe I shall take my leave of you." He bowed politely. "Gochisousama deshita. Enjoy your dessert." The redhead left, as Slytherins turned to Draco in confusion.  
  
"Don't look at me," he snapped. "I don't know what the hell he said either!"  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Hiei made his way down a moonlit corridor, somewhere in the upper levels of a tower near the Hufflepuff dormitories. He kept to the shadows, constantly scanning the hallway in both directions for danger -- not out of necessity, though it would be awkward to explain the katana belted at his waist, but simply by preference and habit.  
  
He caught movement high in the corner of his vision and spun, dropping into a defensive stance, though he didn't draw the weapon. There, on the wall near the ceiling, a spiderweb's trailing end drifted on air currents.  
  
Hiei's eyes narrowed. The web should have been firmly anchored to the wall at its lower corner. He was fairly sure it hadn't been unanchored and adrift a second before. Stepping closer, he sized up the web, and eyed the spot it would have needed to be attached at to be taut.  
  
A thin, gray-green line snaked through that spot, running roughly parallel to the ceiling. Hiei followed the line in the direction he'd come from, guessing that he would've seen the movement if its approach hadn't been blocked by the filmy web.  
  
The line split into three at the first door he came to. One segment continued on -- and from here he could see the tip of it as it sped forward --, another squeezed through the door at a tiny gap in the upper corner, and the third stretched upwards a single centimeter, then curled out from the wall. A tiny, curved, transparent disk dangled from the end, the convex side pointing not-quite-downwards.  
  
Hiei cursed under his breath, darted to the nearest window, and climbed out. Taking the roofs and windowsills of the castle, he flickered to the ground, then across to the fence keeping students away from the castle's lakeside. He made his way down the bluff -- sheer for most humans, but with enough handholds for an expert freehand rockclimber, or a nimble, lightweight demon -- and alighted on a windowsill.  
  
Five windows over, he found the one he wanted, pushed his way fully onto the ledge, and crossed his arms to glare down at Kurama.  
  
"Hello, Hiei," the pajama-clad teen said calmly. "Do come in; you're blocking me."  
  
"Good," Hiei snapped, not moving. "You've done enough. You're getting clumsy; I saw one of your damn spyeyes settling into place."  
  
Kurama sighed. "I know you did, but I'm being more careful where other people could see."  
  
Hiei snorted softly in disbelief.  
  
"I have to finish this tonight, Hiei," Kurama said. "I can't spend Monday recharging in a tree. We have classes."  
  
Hiei glared at him, silent, waiting. Kurama matched his gaze firmly.  
  
"Please."  
  
Dammit, Hiei thought. "I suppose you expect me to haul you over to your bed when you collapse," he snapped, giving in ungraciously.  
  
"I'm not going to collapse," Kurama answered, as Hiei pushed past him and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. Kurama reached back outside the window, presumably grasping this end of his vine, and stilled.  
  
Both demons spent the next hour perfectly still, Hiei standing watch over Kurama, and Kurama feeding his power into the vine. A broad leaf in Kurama's free hand, within the line of sight of both demons, flickered with images of the upper levels of Hogwarts.  
  
At last, the leaf showed a tiny, dusty attic space, and went blank. Kurama let the leaf fall out the window, dangling from its vine, and sagged against the wall.  
  
"I'm done," he said.  
  
"Good," Hiei answered. "Bed."  
  
"Um..."  
  
Hiei raised an eyebrow, frowning knowingly. "You can't move, can you."  
  
"Well... no."  
  
"Idiot." Hiei pushed himself from the wall and draped Kurama over his shoulders in a fireman's carry.  
  
"Hiei?"  
  
"Shut up." He dumped Kurama unceremoniously onto the fox's bed, tossed the covers up over him, and climbed onto the foot of the bed.  
  
"Take off your boots," Kurama mumbled, already falling asleep. "It's unsanitary."  
  
"You can wash the blanket," Hiei snapped, pulling the curtains closed. He sat back against the bedpost, inside the curtains, and loosened his katana. Bracing himself with the sheath and his legs, so he wouldn't fall over if he fell asleep, he settled in for the night.  
  



	8. Filler Space

  
Kurama shot awake with a warm, familiar body pressing him to the mattress, and a hand covering his mouth.  
  
"Nearly dawn," Hiei breathed into his ear, avoiding sibilants that would carry to the other sleepers. "Get up. Go to willow." The demon pulled back, drawing Kurama up with him. "Can you get there?"  
  
Kurama nodded, and Hiei took his hand from Kurama's mouth, starting to move away. Catching his shirt, Kurama pulled him back and leaned in next to Hiei's ear.  
  
"Don't go near the willow until I'm there," he murmured. He felt Hiei twitch curiously under his hand. "I mean it. Don't."  
  
Hiei shrugged him off, and silently pushed open the bedcurtain nearest the window. The faint, grayish light of a rainy pre-dawn fell over them, illuminating Hiei for a split second before the fire demon darted away. He reappeared on the windowsill, pausing just long enough to push open the window, and flickered from view.  
  
Kurama pushed the bedclothes away, and slowly climbed from his bed. The room blurred slightly and tilted, and Kurama clutched at his bedpost. I really overdid it last night, he thought, as he regained his balance. He poured a bit of cold water from the bedside pitcher, splashed it on his face, and felt a little better.  
  
It took him only a moment to dress, since the clothes he wanted -- his only pair of jeans and a cotton sweater, which were far more practical than yesterday's slacks and dress shirt -- were on top of the other things in his trunk. It took considerably longer to brush his hair. He kept dislodging the seeds woven into it. The microscopic sprouts of each weren't quite strong enough to keep a grip despite the brush, not without his strength backing them up.  
  
Finally, he sighed, gave up, and loosely tied his hair back. He would just have to brush it out properly later, after he'd gotten his power levels up to a respectable level. Kurama slipped a comb into his pocket, straightened his bed, and left.  
  
The stairs were not a fun climb on Sunday mornings, Kurama discovered quickly, when his foot went through a step that he knew had been solid the day before. He flailed, throwing his arms forward to catch himself on the higher steps, and fell through the staircase. The instant he'd passed through the solid part, he was sucked backwards and slammed against... stairs? Kurama blinked, dazed and hurting, and stared straight down into empty space, at a floor covered with rugs. He squeezed his eyes shut quickly.  
  
Okay, he thought, fighting down his instinctive panic. I am, apparently, magically glued to the underside of the stairs. Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble up at the thought, and Kurama clamped down on it, biting his tongue. First off, check for injuries. He gingerly pulled his arm away from the cold stone of the steps, then his head, and carefully ran his fingers over his scalp. Nothing stang overmuch or felt sticky, though there was a tender spot in the back, and when he brought his fingers back around and nervously peeked, there was no blood. Next... um... get off the stairs! He slowly rolled over, whispering a prayer to Inari that he wouldn't fall when his 'stuck' side came out of contact with the stone. When he found he stayed attached, he pushed himself to his hands and knees.  
  
Inari, this is creepy! He opened his eyes, staring firmly at the steps. His hands were white-knuckled and clutching at the rise. Not that it mattered, he realized, since the limestone was worn so smooth that there was nothing really to get a grip on. If the magic holding him up failed, he would fall, regardless of how tightly he tried to hold on.  
  
He swallowed, feeling dizzy, and deliberately jerked his torso back. He couldn't force himself to let go, but the movement dislodged his hands, and now he was kneeling upright, so to speak, on the stairs. The blood was rushing to his head, and his sinuses were filling and pressing the wrong way, making him dizzy. He had to get off the stairs quickly. Humans could pass out from being upside-down too long, if he remembered correctly.  
  
Kurama levered himself to his feet. He could do this, easy. Right. Just pretend he had glue on his shoes, or maybe some sort of charm... yes, that was the right mindset. He looked up at his feet and began climbing. It was like being in one of those modern prints, the black-and-white optical illusions of pencil-gripping hands drawing each other, or water flowing uphill, or... staircases.  
  
Well. Apparently the wizard world wasn't as hidden from the Muggle world as they thought. Kurama began laughing as he stepped off the last step, easily rolled through the hoped-for fall, and found himself sitting on the ground-floor landing of the staircase atrium, right-side-up.  
  
He made it through the rest of the castle without mishap, and stepped out into the rain. Hiei was sitting on a low wall near the door, soaked through and scowling at the tree. Kurama calmly passed by him, glancing at the fire demon in acknowledgement, and walked towards the tree.  
  
There was a faint dent in the ground about ten meters from it. Kurama stopped at the edge of the flattened grass, his gaze passing over a few scattered twigs and green leaves, then he turned on Hiei.  
  
"What did I tell you?" he demanded, swaying slightly. Hiei watched him, eyes shuttered, as Kurama shook his head clear. "Don't go near the tree without me! It hits!"  
  
"You didn't mention that part," Hiei said flatly.  
  
"I--" He hadn't. He also hadn't told Hiei just how near 'near' was. "You should have known I wouldn't say such a thing without good reason!"  
  
Hiei made a disdainful sound, dropping the subject. Kurama sighed, finished walking to the tree, then climbed into it and settled himself on the branch he'd used the day before. Hiei waited a moment, scrutinizing the tree warily, then darted to it and climbed into the higher branches.  
  
They made themselves comfortable, then Kurama gently unwound a vine of his spyeye from a tree branch, pulling the wide leaf on the end around to dangle in front of him. He fiddled with the tiny stem at the base of the leaf, flipping through images until it displayed Hiei's dorm. Then his eyes went wide in shock.  
  
"Oh, my..." he breathed, amused.  
  
  
****  
  
  
An explosion shot Harry from sleep. He jerked to the side, and tumbled from his bed with a yelp. Pained grunts told him that he hadn't been the only one to fall from his bed. He blinked at the ceiling.  
  
A crash prompted another explosion, and a blast of blue-white scorched a tapestry on the wall.  
  
"I'm up, I'm frikkin' up already, you old hag!" Uremeshi yelled.  
  
"And you're not dressed!" Harry dazedly placed the voice as Professor Genkai's. She continued, "Lazy bum! I've seen old women move faster than that!"  
  
"Hah!" Uremeshi scoffed, loudly. Harry pulled himself up with one hand, pressing his glasses into place with the other, and caught sight of Uremeshi, in boxers and a white T-shirt, balanced on one sock-clad foot and trying to get into his jeans. Behind him, his bed was strangely collapsed in on itself. "Only in the mirror!"  
  
Professor Genkai -- who'd finally bothered to get rid of yesterday's fur, Harry noticed -- raised an eyebrow at Uremeshi, leapt three feet into the air, and kicked him halfway across the room. He skidded on his one foot, miraculously keeping his balance. "Insolent delinquent!"  
  
"Grandma!" the teen shot back, finally getting the jeans untangled and his foot through.  
  
"That translated terribly," Genkai said. "If I was your grandmother, boy, I'd thrash you."  
  
"And that's different... How?" he demanded.  
  
"It wouldn't be voluntary."  
  
"When the hell did I volunteer for this?!"  
  
"'Please, Genkai, I need to train for the tournament,'" Genkai quoted, her voice slightly higher and taunting.  
  
Uremeshi scowled, snatching up his shoes. He hopped oddly out of the room, trying to pull them on with Genkai figuratively snapping at his heels. Harry suddenly realized Ron's brothers were peeping through the door, fully dressed, their freckles stark on wide-eyed, pale faces. Genkai paused next to them and scowled.  
  
"Detention is not a spectator sport, gentlemen. Move!"  
  
They clattered down the stairs after Uremeshi, leaving the five bleary-eyed, horrified boys (and Kuwabara, snoring) in the dorm. Harry stared at the now-empty doorway for a long moment, then slowly exchanged nervous glances with the others.  
  
"Hey, Ron?" a shaky voice began.  
  
"Yeah, Seamus?"  
  
"Can your brothers get us earplugs? I think we're going to need them."  
  
Ron blinked, then seemed to snap back into focus, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "You don't want to get that sort of thing from the twins."  
  
"Oh." Seamus frowned.  
  
"I'll write Percy," Ron added hastily. "He used to live under the twins' room."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Harry untangled his legs from his sheets, pulled himself to his feet, and walked over to begin clearing the worst of the mess that had been Uremeshi's bed. It hadn't just appeared to be collapsed in the middle; it had been broken cleanly in half. The curtains were torn, with holes scorched in them, and there was pillow stuffing scattered about. Harry knelt near one of the larger piles, and started gathering shattered, singed bits of ceramic: the pitcher and bowl that belonged on the nightstand.  
  
Since it was a Sunday, and they had been awakened at dawn, they all felt justified in dragging their feet down to breakfast. The five woke Kuwabara -- who swore up and down that Genkai was perfectly harmless, and he'd sensed her coming and ignored the ruckus -- and cleared what they could of the remains of Uremeshi's bed. By the time they had finished, showered, dressed, and gotten to the Great Hall, it was eight o'clock. Uremeshi wasn't back yet.  
  
Piling food on his plate, Harry asked Kuwabara, "How long do Professor Genkai's detentions usually last? Should someone make sure that we save some food for Uremeshi?"  
  
"Detention?" Kuwabara sounded confused.  
  
"He's in detention with Ron's brothers. With Genkai."  
  
Kuwabara shook his head. "They might be in detention, but Uremeshi's not. He's probably getting a training session." He ate some of his rice, swallowed, and added, "Genkai will let them eat afterwards, probably sometime tonight."  
  
"Tonight?!" Hermione gasped, aghast.  
  
"Well, she can't keep them til tomorrow," Kuwabara said. "She's got classes."  
  
"Does she do this often?" Harry asked. "I mean, you weren't surprised, and Hiei was gone when she showed up... I don't think he came back last night at all, come to think of it," he added, going off-track.  
  
"He does that," Kuwabara said, shrugging. He turned towards the Hufflepuff table, beaming. "Ne, Yukina... where does the shr-- er, your brother -- go at night?"  
  
Slightly startled and blushing, Yukina turned to look at them. "Lots of places," she said slowly. "Towers, rooftops, trees... he doesn't really like beds. Although he should be here by now..." She trailed off, starting to look worried. "It's not like him to miss a meal."  
  
"Sure it is. He's never around for them," Kuwabara said.  
  
"But that's when he can get food other places."  
  
Botan put a gentle hand on Yukina's shoulder. "He can get food other places, here, too," she said.  
  
"Kazuma?"  
  
Kuwabara smiled. "He's fine, Yukina. I'm sure of it."  
  
"Why don't we show you where the kitchens are, Yukina?" Hermione offered. "So you can show him, if you need to?"  
  
The smaller girl beamed. "Thank you! That would be so kind."  
  
"You go ahead," Botan told Yukina. "I'm going to go flying."  
  
They finished the last few bites of their meal, and headed downstairs. Kuwabara and Yukina naturally fell in behind the Gryffindors guiding them.  
  
Ron nudged Hermione and whispered something to her. Harry leaned forward, as Hermione replied, not quite loudly enough to be heard by the transfer students.  
  
"She's in a war zone, halfway around the world from her home, her family, and everything familiar to her. Can't you see how stressed she is? The least we can do is be nice about it!"  
  
Turning a corner, they saw two boys, about halfway down the hallway, talking quietly.  
  
"Oh, great," Ron muttered. "Slytherins."  
  
The boy facing towards them looked up, and caught sight of the group over his companion's shoulder. It was Blaise Zabini. He raised an eyebrow, then directed the other Slytherin to glance back.  
  
"Now, that one looks dumb enough to be a Weasley," Zabini said, his voice just loud enough to carry to the Gryffindors. "He's even got Prissy's hair."  
  
The younger boy cocked his head and squinted, ignoring Kuwabara's growl. "You're right. Are we sure Weasel Sr.'s never been to Japan?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Can't you people think of any original insults? Malfoy's already tried that one."  
  
"Shut up, Mudblood," Zabini snapped.  
  
Kuwabara lunged forward, lifting Blaise by his collar and pinning him against the wall. The trio snapped out their wands and held them on the younger Slytherin, keeping him from going for his wand, as Kuwabara hissed, "I don't know what that means, but it sounded like an insult. Did you just insult her?"  
  
"He bloody well did!" Ron told him.  
  
Kuwabara scowled. "Apologize to Miss Granger."  
  
Blaise snorted. "Why should I? She is what she is."  
  
"Yeah," Kuwabara agreed easily. "And she's a girl, not whatever you called her. Now apologize or else."  
  
"Or else what?" Blaise sneered. "I saw that aerial display yesterday. You couldn't cast even the simplest hex."  
  
Kuwabara's fist smashed into the wall next to Blaise's head, sending stone chips flying. "So. What?"  
  
"ENOUGH!" McGonagall's sharp voice rang out. The students froze. "Mr. Kuwabara, please refrain from physical violence! Potter, Granger, Weasley, put those wands away!"  
  
Reluctantly, Harry and his friends obeyed, as their Head of House came storming up to the group. "Mr. Kuwabara," she repeated, "Put Mr. Zabini down. Now."  
  
Kuwabara growled low in his throat, but shoved away from Blaise. The Slytherin dropped heavily to the floor and sat there, panting.  
  
McGonagall gestured to the group. "My office, if you would. Mr. Zabini, Mr. Baddock, that includes you."  
  
"But-" Ron began in protest.  
  
"Quiet, Mr. Weasley." She led them briskly to her office, waved them into a sullen, silent line before her desk, and sat down. "That," she began, "was the most disgraceful display I have seen from fifth-years of any House in the past twenty years. I am greatly disappointed in all of you."  
  
"But Professor--!" McGonagall stared Harry into silence.  
  
"Miss Koorime," she said, gently. Yukina jumped. "Would you please explain exactly what happened?"  
  
The tiny girl folded her hands before her, gaze flickering to the floor, and bowed deeply. "McGonagall-sama, we were walking to the kitchens to get some food for my brother, and we met these two boys." Her gaze flicked towards the Slytherins. "They said some things that didn't translate very well, I think, but they weren't pleasant, and it got worse from there."  
  
"She's lying!" Blaise snapped. "We didn't do anything!"  
  
"We were just talking to each other!" the younger boy agreed quickly.  
  
"You dare accuse my angel of lying?!" Kuwabara shouted.  
  
"GENTLEMEN!" McGonagall cut in. "Let Miss Koorime continue. You may tell your sides after she is done." She waited a beat, then nodded. "How did it get worse, Miss Koorime?"  
  
"One of the things that didn't translate sounded like an insult, McGonagall-sama, and it was to Miss Hermione… Kazuma couldn't ignore it. He was trying to get an apology when you found us."  
  
The professor nodded. "Thank you, Miss Koorime. Mr. Zabini, your turn."  
  
"It's not true," Blaise spat. Kuwabara growled, clenching his fist, as Blaise continued, "We were just talking, when Granger there got in our faces. I told her to go away, and all of a sudden this freak had me up against the wall and was threatening me!"  
  
"You called her a Mudblood!" Kuwabara yelled.  
  
"Enough!" McGonagall stood. "I believe I understand exactly what happened now. Mr. Zabini, five points for language. Mr. Kuwabara, ten points for attacking a fellow student and damaging school property. Potter, Weasley, Granger, five points total for drawing wands on a fellow student."  
  
"Yes, Professor McGonagall," the students chorused sullenly. She cast her eyes sternly over the teens.  
  
"Dismissed."  
  
  
****  
  
  
A few hours after lunch, Draco stalked down the halls of Hogwarts, Crabbe and Goyle in tow. Damn the rain! Couldn't fly without getting soaked, couldn't even set foot outside without getting ankle-deep in mud - soaked and muddy were two looks that Malfoys did not sport - couldn't stay in the dorm without tripping over snotty Slytherin first-year brats, couldn't walk the halls without tripping over the brats from the rest of the Houses…  
  
Two wide-eyed Gryffindor first-years barreled past Draco, deliberately jostling him as they turned the corner.  
  
"Hey!" he yelped. He flicked his fingers, sending Crabbe and Goyle to run down the impudent pair. He followed at a properly aristocratic pace, turning the corner as his friends caught the two kids by their collars, about halfway down the corridor.  
  
"Leggo!" one snarled, kicking ineffectually. The other seemed content to twist and struggle in silence.  
  
"Crabbe, Goyle, turn them around here," Draco ordered. They did so, shaking the two roughly until they quieted, then letting go. Draco sneered down at them, feeling a surge of glee as two pairs of small eyes fell on his prefect's badge. "Running in the corridors, five points apiece. Deliberately jostling a prefect, five points apiece...that's twenty points total from the groveling Gryffindors. I hope you're very, very proud of yourselves, children, because your housemates won't like it one - little -- bit."  
  
The first boy snapped, "We know all about you, Malfoy! They won't be happy, but they'll know it wasn't our fault!"  
  
His friend nodded righteously. "They'll just hate ye that much more," he agreed. "If that's possible."  
  
"You'd think that, wouldn't you," he sneered.  
  
"Yeah, we would," they chorused stubbornly.  
  
They were probably right. The bloody world had a tendency to ignore Gryffindors when they did wrong, and the Gryffindors themselves were the worst about it. Draco loathed that. "Five points for backtalk."  
  
"Right then. C'mon," the first one said to his friend, "Let's leave Prefect Malfoy alone, Kenneth. Besides, we need to go tell everyone about what Professor Genkai's doing to Uremeshi out on the front lawn!" The pair dashed off.  
  
Draco frowned. Beatings were no longer allowed at Hogwarts, so what could Professor Genkai possibly be doing to Uremeshi? This warranted investigation… and hinted at some amusement value, anyway. He raised his chin. "Well? Let's go, then," he told Crabbe and Goyle, heading towards the front lawn.  
  
He heard the crowd before he saw them, dozens of students crowded around the windows facing the front lawn.  
  
"What's all this?" Draco snapped. "Out of the way, move along, beat it," he continued, Crabbe and Goyle clearing a path for him through the crowd. In short order, he had a prime view of the goings-on outside.  
  
A board stretched along the ground, ten feet long, with a brightly-polished blade running the length of it. Uremeshi balanced on his index fingers on the top edge of the blade, a tiny point of blue-white fire at the tip of each finger. Looking up, his clothes were liberally spattered with mud. His shoes were coated with it. On top of all that, he was using his toes to balance a second board. This one was loaded with china plates, a black kitten (a kitten?!), and a blue creature that vaguely resembled a penguin. As Draco stared, Uremeshi jerked one hand forward and got the sparking fingertip onto the blade, several inches farther along, the china rattling dangerously.  
  
"Bloody hell…" Crabbe muttered.  
  
"When are you going to let me down, you witch?!" Uremeshi demanded, panting slightly.  
  
"When has asking that gotten you an answer?" Genkai shot back.  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes, looking more closely at Uremeshi, as the boy grumbled and moved further along the blade. He couldn't see any wands… how was the light at the Gryffindor's fingertips being generated?  
  
"What're you looking at?" a girl chirped in Draco's ear.  
  
Draco yelped and flinched away, coming up face-to-face with a beaming, blue-haired girl. The other Hufflepuff, what-was-her-name, Shinime. How had she gotten past the crowd and right next to him?  
  
"Uremeshi," he grumbled. She peered past him and, impossibly, her smile widened.  
  
"He's getting much better. Genkai must be so pleased!"  
  
"Doesn't look it," Draco said under his breath. More loudly, he asked the most worrying of his questions. "Just what did he do to deserve… this?"  
  
Shinime looked back at him, all but bouncing. "He won, of course!"  
  
"'Won'?"  
  
"The tournament!" she elaborated. "To be her heir! The rest of us are incidental, but Uremeshi's special. He's going to inherit everything… her knowledge, her secret techniques, the dojo and temple… it's an incredible honor!"  
  
The Hat had pegged this one perfectly, Draco thought. Pathetically overeager, disgustingly cheerful, and none too bright or secretive - in one breath, she'd just told everyone within earshot everything of importance about herself and her friends. Now, everyone knew that they needn't even bother befriending anyone other than Uremeshi, since the other students were "incidental".  
  
… except he'd seen Minamino's other side, that first night. If that was "incidental"… just how dangerous was "the best"?  
  
  
****  
  
  
Harry sat by the fire, staring at the chessboard as he tried to figure out a move that would let him prolong the game - not win, of course; there was no chance he'd beat Ron, and never had been any, but he could at least put up a decent fight. Ron needed the distraction. His brothers had been asleep since before dinner, and had flatly refused to talk about their morning of detention. The rumors, based on reports of Uremeshi's afternoon, were sketchy at best. Harry just hoped Mrs. Weasley didn't hear any of them.  
  
"Checkmate," Ron murmured.  
  
So much for prolonging the game.  
  
"Another?" Harry offered, only to be interrupted by the simultaneous arrival of Hermione, carrying a book, from the direction of the girl's dorms, and Uremeshi, Jaganshi, and Kuwabara through the portrait hole. The taller boys were muddy, though Uremeshi was the worse of the two by far, and promptly made a beeline for the boys' dorms.  
  
Hiei hung back, watching the other two with his arms crossed, and a faint, oddly indulgent smirk on his face.  
  
"Thank Merlin!" Hermione said breathlessly, catching sight of the exchange students. She bore down on Hiei, eyes bright with relief, and shoved her book - the massive Defense text, Harry realized - under Hiei's nose. "Could you look at this?" she asked, flipping it open to the first chapter and tapping the page.  
  
Hiei pushed the book away slightly, probably so he could actually see the text. "'In the beginning, the universe contained infinite mass and infinitesimal dimension,'" he read aloud. His eyes flicked up to Hermione, and he made a soft, disdainful sound. "The translation is close enough."  
  
"But how can that be?" Hermione demanded - not sounding shrill, but rather challenging.  
  
Hiei shrugged. "I don't care."  
  
Hermione paused, visibly taken aback, before she flipped the page and plunged ahead. "That wasn't what I was really worrying about, anyway." She gestured into the book. "Where's the rest of the chapter?"  
  
Hiei cocked his head slightly to the side. "Why are you asking me?"  
  
"It's your textbook!"  
  
"No, it isn't." Hiei didn't let Hermione ask the obvious next question. "Genkai's never used a specific text with us. Her copy of that one," he glanced at the book, "is a scroll. I didn't know it came as a book."  
  
"Then how can I read the rest of the chapter?!" Hermione wailed.  
  
"Don't." And with that, he turned on his heel and went upstairs.  
  



	9. Of Smoke and Mirrors... and Homework

  
  
History of Magic passed in the usual blur of snoring (the students), droning (the professor), and the quiet rasping of a quill on parchment (Hermione). Afterwards, Harry and the other bleary-eyed Gryffindors trudged reluctantly down into the dungeons.  
  
The trouble began the instant Hiei sat down next to Kurama. Furious whispers broke out feverishly across the room, on both sides.  
  
"He doesn't sleep in our dorm," Harry heard Seamus mutter to Dean, "he doesn't eat with us, and now he's sitting with the Slytherins... why wasn't he just Sorted there, and save us the trouble?"  
  
Kurama turned coldly towards the whisper, but it was Uremeshi who got into Seamus' face first.  
  
"What do you care if he hangs out with his friend?" he growled. "You don't say a thing when she-" he gestured towards Parvati, "-spends time with her sister in Ravenclaw!"  
  
"But that's Ravenclaw!"  
  
"So what?"  
  
"Yuusuke," Kurama said coolly, "there's no need to fight with your Housemates. If this is the custom when it comes to their Houses, we should respect that."  
  
"I can't believe I'm hearing this from you."  
  
"I'm not saying we should obey it."  
  
Uremeshi rolled his eyes and snorted. "I should've known. You're full of it, Kurama."  
  
Kurama's expression remained totally neutral. "Of course." He turned back around as the door slammed open. Snape swept in, robes billowing.  
  
"Five points from Gryffindor for being out of your seat," he snapped as he passed Uremeshi. The boy scowled and sat down next to Kuwabara once more.  
  
When Snape reached the front of the room, he turned on the class, frowning.  
  
"As our guests are no doubt unaware," he began, "there will be no ridiculous wand-waving or incantations in this class. Potions is a subtle art, utterly unlike the brazen displays of other magicks, and I expect few of you to have more than negligible ability in the subject… particularly as Professor Genkai informs me that she has no talent with Potions herself." He flicked his wand, and the day's lesson appeared on the board. "The lesson is there, the supplies are in the cabinet; you have ninety minutes. Our guests," he hissed the word, "may work in pairs. Uremeshi and Kuwabara-"  
  
"Hey, no fair!" the two yelped.  
  
"Five points each from Gryffindor," Snape barked. "And ten each for every additional interruption." He glared at Hiei (who was smirking) and Kurama (who was biting his lip, unsuccessfully trying to suppress an amused smile). "Since you two are so eager to overcome House rivalries, you will work together. Do try to avoid blowing up your cauldron."  
  
The class crowded to the back of the room.  
  
"How the fuck does he expect us to manage?" Uremeshi grumbled under his breath, behind Harry. "I don't know if we even use any of this shit back home." He tapped Harry's shoulder. "Potter, give a guy a hand, wouldja? Which is which?"  
  
"Um…" Harry glanced at Snape, then quickly collected the unlabeled items Uremeshi needed. "Moonstone, bay leaves, olive wood-"  
  
"Potter!" Harry stiffened at Snape's voice. "How long are you going to gape at the supplies like an imbicile? Finish up and allow everyone else a chance to get to the cabinet before the class period is over."  
  
Harry moved away, relieved that he hadn't lost still more points, and let Hermione in to finish helping Uremeshi.  
  
The remainder of the class period was punctuated with Uremeshi's or Kuwabara's muttered questions, unhappy grumbling, and the occasional yelp as their cauldron belched sparks or smoke at unexpected intervals. Hiei and Kurama, though, worked in utter silence, the shorter boy chopping and keeping an eye on the fire, and the Slytherin sorting the ingredients and stirring.  
  
Eventually, finally, Snape stood from his desk and made his way through the room, checking everyone's completed potions. Uremeshi and Kuwabara's pungent mess received a smug, arrogant sneer. He bypassed Hermione without a word, which meant he was unable to find anything wrong with hers, and stopped next to Hiei and Kurama's desk.  
  
"What," he hissed, "is this?"  
  
"The potion written on the board, sir," Kurama replied. Harry craned his head to see their cauldron. The liquid in it matched Hermione's, as far as he could tell. Kurama tilted his head slightly. "Is it wrong?" he asked.  
  
Snape grimaced. "No," he bit out. Kurama and Hiei's expressions brightened, and Snape's eyes narrowed. "How," he asked derisively, "since you cannot possibly have studied Potions before, did you manage this?"  
  
Kurama's eyes widened faintly. "It is written out on the board, Professor," he pointed out, as if the answer was obvious.  
  
"Detention for both of you, and don't expect to ever work together again."  
  
"No sir," Kurama answered calmly.  
  
"Dibs," Harry heard Uremeshi whisper to Kuwabara.  
  
"On Kurama," the taller boy quickly said.  
  
"Damn."  
  
"Should've said which you meant." Harry could hear the smirk in Kuwabara's voice.  
  
"Tell ya what… I'll fight you for it."  
  
Oh shit, Harry thought. Uremeshi and Kuwabara's normal behavior was bad enough.  
  
"No way," Kuwabara answered, much to Harry's relief. "I'll fight you, but not if you're going to make me work with Shorty."  
  
Harry exchanged a rather panicked look with Ron.  
  
"C'mon, don't tell me you're scared of him!"  
  
"Scared?! I, the great Kuwabara Kazuma, afraid of that pipsqueak-?"  
  
"Yeah, you," Uremeshi interrupted.  
  
Kurama leaned over, one eye on Snape, now berating Neville across the room. "We can hear you two, you know." Sheepish silence. "Do you really want Hiei working with Kuwabara in a room full of volatile materials?" he added pointedly.  
  
Harry couldn't help it. He glanced towards Hiei. The short boy was scowling down at the knife he'd used to slice up ingredients earlier.  
  
"Um… it'll be good practice?"  
  
"Yuusuke!"  
  
Another glare from the Potions Master, and the Gryffindors quieted once again.  
  
"Class," Snape said, "is dismissed."  
  
  
****  
  
  
After lunch, Hiei climbed through a trapdoor, into the attic space of the tallest tower of the castle, and promptly sneezed.  
  
"Get a move on, shrimp!"  
  
Hiei felt Kuwabara push him fully up the ladder and off to one side, and glared as the human boy poked his head through the opening. Kuwabara coughed.  
  
"Gods, what the hell is this teacher smoking?" he demanded, wheezing.  
  
"Lotus," Hiei grumbled, shoving a window open and perching on the sill. "A water-element plant associated with protection."  
  
"You've been spending too much time with Kurama, if you know that off the top of your head," Kuwabara muttered, gingerly sitting on one of the unoccupied, frilly cushions. He made a face.  
  
Harry followed them, seating himself at a nearby table. "Is that what that stuff is?" he demanded. "I can't think through it."  
  
"Not that Divination requires a lot of thought," Ron commented.  
  
Lavender Brown sniffed at them disdainfully.  
  
"True…" Hiei murmured. "If it did, that oaf -" he cocked his head at Kuwabara, "-would have no skill at it."  
  
"Hey!" Kuwabara protested.  
  
"Children." A woman drifted from the shadows, effectively silencing them. She wore a flowing dress, weighed down with jewelry and brightly patterned scarves, under a black shawl. From behind thick glasses, she cast a dreamy gaze over the students. "Welcome back to Hogwarts. It is good to see you once more in the physical world… and at last, I meet two of the travelers I saw over the summer." She breezed over towards Hiei and Kuwabara, her gaze sharpening as she saw Hiei on the sill. "Such shadows about you, child…" Hiei's eyes narrowed. "I predict that you will be tempted to be overcome by them, and don't know if you will have the strength to resist..."  
  
Hiei rolled his eyes, and the professor sighed. "Though I cannot force you to respect the delicate art of divination, I do hope that you will at least heed my warning." She turned away, and began slowly circulating through the room.  
  
"We will be studying the elemental methods of inducing visions this year. In this first term, we shall begin with water visions, then progress to mirrors. Afterwards, it will be necessary to delay our studies, as several students will require an intervention to negate the misfortunes caused by breaking their mirrors." She paused, allowing Lavender and Parvati time to squeak nervously.  
  
"In the second term," she went on placidly, "we will turn to storm and wind visions. Heavy snows will assist us greatly in our endeavors, before we move on to fire visions. This will be interrupted when a number of us fall gravely ill after Easter."  
  
Looking almost beatific at this pronouncement, Trelawney sank into her armchair and gestured towards a cabinet. "Please take one bowl each, and come to me to have them filled. When you return to your seats, allow the water to settle, and turn to page 247 in your books."  
  
Hiei, scowling, fetched one and had it filled, then returned to a spot near the window. Kuwabara was already staring raptly into his shallow bowl. Hiei flipped his book open and began reading. He had no intention of wasting any effort for some melodramatic half-wit who'd bought into her own parlor-trick "predictions". Besides, he didn't do water.  
  
"Do you see anything?" he heard Harry murmur, at the next table.  
  
"A lot of water," Ron answered. "Obviously, I'm going to have a tragic accident and drown in my bathtub."  
  
Harry snickered. "I see some reddish light." Hiei glanced at his own bowl, noticing the red-shaded lamps were reflected in the water. Harry continued, "I'm going to be in a horrific fire."  
  
"No, we used that on our homework last year."  
  
"Oh, yeah. Well… I'm going to accidentally Apparate into a volcano. Oops." Hiei suppressed an amused smirk, listening to the pair stifle laughter.  
  
"What did you see, my dears?" Hiei turned, to see Trelawney hovering over Harry and Ron. They told her, barely managing to keep straight faces as she visibly brightened. "Very good!" She circled their table and came to Hiei. He stared flatly up at her.  
  
"A black dragon," he lied, before she asked. "Made of fire, winding through the sky." He smirked evilly. "It was very… tempting."  
  
"You have seen your shadows!" Trelawney cried dramatically, exactly as Hiei had expected. Lavender and Parvati gasped. "Oh, my child, my dear child… you mustn't give in!" Hiei raised an eyebrow, half-amused at her theatrics. "You are strong enough to resist! I have seen it!" She visibly collected herself, gave him a disgustingly supportive look, and turned away.  
  
"Now, Mr. Kuwabara… what did you see?"  
  
Silence. Kuwabara was still staring fixedly into his bowl, motionless.  
  
"Mr. Kuwabara," Trelawney repeated. Hiei kicked him under the table, and Kuwabara's head snapped up.  
  
"Wha…?"  
  
"Your vision, dear. What did you see?" the professor asked.  
  
"The fox got stabbed," he murmured, dazedly.  
  
Hiei kicked him again, before he could say anything damaging. "You're looking the wrong way, idiot."  
  
Trelawney patted Kuwabara's shoulder sympathetically. "Sometimes the Eye only sees inconsequential sights."  
  
Kuwabara blinked, then he seemed to become aware of his surroundings again. "It was NOT inconsequential!" he protested.  
  
Trelawney hushed him. "I understand your distress, my dear, but the Sight is a cruel gift. We do what we can," she added, consolingly. She glanced around at the class. "I think that will be enough for today. Please, pack away your things."  
  
Hiei stuffed his book in his schoolbag and took his bowl up to Trelawney's table, placing it next to the rest. Trelawney caught his eye.  
  
"Take your friend down to the kitchens. Get him some tea, plenty of sugar, and don't let him read the leaves. He will need the comfort, after scrying Death for the first time." She tried to pat Hiei's hand, but he jerked away. "And get some for yourself. The shadows will be stronger for a short time, now that you have opened yourself to the Sight of them." She raised her voice to address the entire class. "Until we meet again."  
  
  
****  
  
  
"So," Hermione asked primly, "how does she think Harry's going to die this year?"  
  
"She hasn't said yet… but Hiei's got shadows tempting him, Kuwabara saw Death, and a bloody lot of us are going to get sick after Easter," Ron answered cheerfully.  
  
"What a surprise. Did she mention that several fifth-year students study themselves into the Hospital Wing before OWLs every year?"  
  
"They do?"  
  
Hermione shot Ron and Harry a long-suffering look. "Yes, they do. It's as predictable as snow in winter."  
  
Ron scratched his head, grinning sheepishly. "She predicted a lot of that, too."  
  
"Oh, for-!" Hermione scoffed as they took their seats, automatically sitting away from the Slytherins. "The woman is a complete loon. I don't know why they keep her on staff."  
  
If she was going to say any more, it was cut off by Professor Genkai's arrival. The tiny woman stepped onto the teaching dais, then leapt lightly onto her desk, eyeing the two-House class impartially.  
  
"I will not tolerate disobedience, laziness, mischief, or tardiness in this class," she said without preamble. "Should any of you attempt this, you will join Uremeshi on Sundays. Should any of you attempt to frame another student, you will merely wish you'd joined Uremeshi. Understood?" The class murmured a tentative agreement.  
  
"Good. Today will be lecture. Open your books to page 2857, 'Chapter 2857: The Origins of Terrestrial Life and the Three Worlds.'" She raised her wand, and began casting notes onto the board.  
  
Within seconds, Hermione's hand shot into the air.  
  
"Yes, Miss…?"  
  
"Granger, Professor." Genkai nodded for her to continue. "Professor, I think our books are missing pages. The chapters run one page and then stop, often in the middle of a sentence."  
  
The corner of Genkai's mouth quirked in amusement. "If this text used multiple pages for every chapter, you would wind up requiring forty-two books that size, Miss Granger." Everyone in the class - except Kurama and Hiei - looked down at their monstrous textbooks in horror. As Hermione stared at her, speechless, Genkai continued, "Run your wand along the outside edge of the page to get more text."  
  
The muggle-borns in the class began to nod in understanding. "It's like a scroll-bar on a computer," Dean Thomas said.  
  
"A what on a what?" Ron asked.  
  
"Nevermind."  
  
Genkai huffed impatiently. "If that's been dealt with…? Good. Now, living creatures originated four thousand million years ago in the Ningenkai, which is the dimensional plane we are currently on, and shortly began to migrate from there -"  
  
Quills began scratching madly, and the fifth years settled in for another year of Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Yuusuke rubbed his head sourly as he left the DADA classroom. "She didn't have to hit me…"  
  
"You deserved it," Hermione said snippily.  
  
"I did not!"  
  
"You did fall asleep, Yuusuke," Kurama pointed out absently, as he tried to rummage through his bag and walk at the same time.  
  
"Well, Miss Priss doesn't have to say it like that!" Yuusuke protested. "Isn't one Keiko in my life enough?"  
  
"Miss Priss--?!"  
  
Ron clapped a hand over Hermione's mouth. "'Scuse us." He and Harry tugged the girl away, though Kurama overheard Harry begin, "You're reverting, 'Mione…"  
  
Yuusuke stretched, pointedly unbothered by the abortive scolding. "Class was BORING! When do we get to the real stuff?"  
  
"In a couple of weeks, I'd imagine," Kurama answered. Where was that bit of knotgrass from Potions? "The homework seems to be setting us up to start rather quickly here... shoot, where'd I put it?"  
  
Yuusuke froze. "What homework?"  
  
Kurama stopped and turned, distracted from his search. "Ninety centimeters on the nature of magic? Due next class?" Yuusuke's eyes narrowed. "Yuusuke… you weren't listening, were you." Silence. Kurama sighed, smiling faintly. "Don't worry too much. You've got a week. I'm sure Keiko will help you get it done in time."  
  
"You. Are. Evil."  
  
  
****  
  
  
The library was all but deserted, this close to dinner. Except for the pinched-faced librarian, and one or two silent, stressed-looking older students, Hiei was alone in the stacks. He liked it that way.  
  
He traced a bandaged finger along the spines of the books, looking for any titles that caught his eye. Gadding with Ghouls… by that waste of a schoolteacher Genkai was so pissed about, so it was as useless as the title implied. Birds into Carriers: The Creation of the Owl Post. Er, no. Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming… hm, that last one could be useful. He plucked it from the shelf.  
  
Hiei didn't advertise it, but he was almost as well-read as Kurama. Knowledge was power, after all, even in Makai.  
  
He turned the corner, and came face-to-neck with Hermione Granger. The girl stumbled back, startled.  
  
"Jaganshi!"  
  
"Granger," he acknowledged.  
  
"What are you… are you looking for books for the Defense essay too?" Her eyes fell on the single book Hiei held.  
  
"No." He let her see the title. She would just get nosy if he tried to hide it. "Need ideas to keep the "loon" in the tower off my case," he said. The girl's face brightened.  
  
"For faking Divination," she said, "You should also look at Innards, Frogs, and Omens. I'll show you."  
  
Hiei snorted. "And for Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said shortly, "Just read the textbook. If you can't find it there, it isn't worth knowing or writing an essay about."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because it doesn't exist."  
  
Hermione pulled her textbook out, checking the cover. "That's impossible. For one thing, it's abridged."  
  
"Not everything is relevant to this planet," Hiei answered, shrugging.  
  
Hermione stared at him, agape.  
  



	10. And Homework, Take Two

  
  
Greenhouse Seven was a long glass box of a building, filled with some of the most dangerous plants known to the wizarding world. At least, it was filled with those that were fairly useful, common, and could be grown in Britain.  
  
Kurama could pass this class in his sleep, but he wasn't bored. This greenhouse still had dozens of plants he'd never encountered before, plants that were accustomed to the darkness of near-polar winters. Many would do well in the permanent sunlessness of Makai, such as Irish banshee nettles, highland stranglegorse, and the day's lesson: firefang creepers.  
  
Firefang creepers were a reddish, leafy vine, about the thickness of a garden hose. They grew a bit less than a meter long, the stem ending in a crinkly yellow blossom the size of a ping-pong ball, and would secrete a thick oil and squirm away if touched. According to Professor Sprout, the oil was useful in a number of potions. According to Kurama's magic, those potions were probably antifreezes and fireworks; the oil was highly flammable.  
  
Unsurprisingly (to Kurama), he was the only student not having trouble with the slick, thorny vines, or their biting flowers. To the uninformed observer, his plant just happened to be struggling in a manner that helped him with the task of collecting the thick liquid.  
  
He calmly pretended not to notice Draco's suspicious glances or the dark looks from the other students as he capped his third bottle (everyone else had yet to finish their first) and set it aside.  
  
An abrupt thud, followed by an ominous crack overhead startled the entire class. The sounds were the only warning that the class had before the window pane above Kurama shattered. As the other students started to flinch away from the sound, Kurama scooped up his firefang and neatly sidestepped the fall of glass. A larger object hurtled through the space he'd been standing in, slamming into the worktable and knocking his supplies aside.  
  
Kurama's hand shot out, catching one bottle as it rolled over the edge. The other two, on their sides, rolled and wobbled over the tabletop, but didn't fall. Kurama tipped them back upright and pushed them to safer territory, deftly moving everything away from both the table edge and the broken glass.  
  
There was a sliver of glass in his bangs, dangerously close to his eye. Kurama calmly plucked it from his hair and let it fall, next to the object that had smashed the glass in the first place. He bent down and lifted it from the dirt, shaking more glass shards from it. It was a Charms textbook, with a familiar name written in both kanji and roman print on it. He sighed and peered up through the broken panel of the roof.  
  
Three stories up, Yuusuke stuck his head out of a broken window, and made a face. "Sorry, man!"  
  
"Figures," Draco muttered beside Kurama, "Gryffindors."  
  
Professor Sprout bustled over. "Oh dear. That's going to need to be repaired," she said. "What happened?"  
  
Before Draco could issue forth a blistering commentary on Gryffindors, Kurama pointed upwards and replied smoothly, "I believe there was a little accident in Charms, Professor. It's all right, though, no one's hurt."  
  
As the professor clucked worriedly and cast a Scourgify to clean up the glass, Kurama leaned in closer to Draco. "What was that about Gryffindors?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Nothing," Draco muttered unconvincingly, glancing warily at him.  
  
Kurama frowned. "If I was you, Malfoy, I'd be more careful not to make hasty judgements. It blinds one to the truth."  
  
"Is that a threat?"  
  
Stupid, unsubtle, arrogant little--! "I told you, I'm not interested in making enemies." Kurama moved away as the professor finished disposing of the glass on the floor, and replaced his firefang pot on the table. He and Draco ignored each other for the rest of class.  
  
****  
  
Hiei had, surprisingly, found a Western spell that might actually be useful, if he could just make it work. He scowled at his snail, flicking his wand. "Diffugite visibilitas," he tried again.  
  
The snail started to smoke.  
  
"Shit!" Hiei hissed, hastily cupping his hand over the shell and suppressing the heat. This damn Western magic was so delicate…  
  
"I did it!" Hermione said. Hiei glanced up. The girl's snail had vanished, and McGonagall was turning towards them.  
  
Hiei's hand darted out behind him, faster than human eyes could see, switching his snail for Seamus'.  
  
"Excellent, Miss Granger. Ten points," McGonagall said.  
  
Hiei eyed the spot where Hermione's snail had been. Maybe he could get this spell right without risking any more accidents, he thought, loosening his head ward slightly so he could watch with a bit of the power of Jagan. "Can you do that again?" he asked the girl, making his voice sound slightly dubious.  
  
"Of course!" she answered. She took the spell off, making the snail visible once more, and recast it.  
  
"Again." There was something about the spell… what was it?  
  
"One more time." Hermione obligingly cast again, and Hiei watched as closely as he could without letting anyone see his third eye.  
  
There was no way even a mere human could work on this level without some sort of trick to it... this was like weaving with Ningenkai spiderweb, juggling china, or something equally exhaustingly finicky and fragile. Hiei would bet that at least half the mistakes Western wizards made were from pure clumsiness.  
  
He sat back without bothering to thank the girl, and turned to his snail. "Diffugite visibilitas!"  
  
The snail turned white. Dammit!  
  
**  
  
As the Gryffindors left class, Hiei palmed the singed snail, turned in the opposite direction and darted away, making his way to the Charms room. The class was just letting out, and he snagged Yukina by the sleeve.  
  
"Oniisan…?"  
  
"Need to talk to you," he said gruffly. He led her around the corner, glancing over her shoulder to check that no one was following them - they weren't - then took the snail from his pocket and handed it to her.  
  
"Oh-!" Yukina held the little animal close to her face, examining it. "Hiei, what happened?"  
  
"An accident," he muttered. She accepted that, thankfully turning her attention to the snail. He waited a long moment, until she sighed.  
  
"There's not much I can do," she told him. "I'm not very good with burns, and it's that much more difficult with a tiny creature like this." Hiei nodded stiffly. "But if I can keep him for a few days…? I'll do better if I can work slowly."  
  
Hiei shrugged. She could do whatever she liked with the thing. "Whatever." He turned to leave.  
  
"Hiei?" He froze. "I know… you didn't have to bother. With the snail, I mean. But… thank you. For letting me help."  
  
"Hn." He darted away before she could say anything more.  
  
Having exhausted what little tolerance he had for crowds, Hiei swiped a sandwich from the kitchens, and hid in a gargoyle niche during lunch. He stayed there until he saw his classmates gathering on the lawn.  
  
He leapt down, then strode around the corner and made his way at a human pace towards the group. It wasn't long before he was within earshot of the gathering class.  
  
"-ther half? What 'other half'?" Yuusuke sounded belligerent, defensive and confused, but Hiei recognized a faint hint of panic. Strange… the brat getting in Yuusuke's face was only Malfoy. "What's that mean? Kurama's all in one piece."  
  
One piece… other half… what the hell had Kurama done? They'd been in the school less than a week.  
  
"His shadow," Malfoy clarified. "The 'shrimp'."  
  
"Eh? Hiei?" Yuusuke relaxed, his gaze sharpening as he tilted his head, smirking at Hiei over Malfoy's shoulder. "Kurama's shadow? Good one, Malfoy."  
  
That was enough. Hiei stopped a few feet behind Malfoy (who hadn't noticed him yet) and frowned at Yuusuke. "Shut up."  
  
Malfoy yelped, turning as he flinched away from Hiei.  
  
"But Hiei," Yuusuke said, grinning, "it's funny!"  
  
"Only to you," Hiei grumbled, turning away.  
  
****  
  
Harry and his friends arrived as Hiei stalked away from Uremeshi and Malfoy. Uremeshi was snickering as Malfoy beat a confused retreat, so the trio gravitated towards him rather than Hiei. The smallest transfer didn't seem to want company, anyway.  
  
"What's so funny?" Ron asked Uremeshi.  
  
The dark-haired boy made an amused sound and pointed at Malfoy. "He called Hiei Kurama's shadow," he replied.  
  
Harry glanced blankly at Ron and Hermione, but both looked just as bewildered as he felt. "What's so funny about that?" Harry asked.  
  
"The 'ei' part of 'Hiei' means 'shadow'," Uremeshi replied easily, though his gaze remained fixed on Malfoy.  Then he blinked.  "What the hell...?"  
  
Harry followed Uremeshi's look, to see Hagrid had just come around from behind his hut, with two animals on leads next to him. The beasts were about half Hagrid's height, putting them at about the same height as Harry, and were… typical of Hagrid's lessons.  
  
They each had a small version of a dragon's head, complete with grey-brown or grey-green scales and a mouthful of short, wide, sharklike teeth. The scales narrowed and lengthened down a long neck, until they flowed into the torso - a horse's, judging by the tail. The legs, all eight of them (four each), were knobbly, bony, and covered with bare grey skin. They ended in taloned, birdlike feet.  
  
"Everyone here?" the half-giant asked cheerfully, though strangely quietly, glancing over the class as they gathered closer together (though the two Houses pointedly remained in two separate groups, as usual, and Hiei stood slightly apart from even the other Gryffindors). "Good! I got a real treat fer yeh today!"  
  
Yeah, Harry had guessed that.  
  
"This here is a wratrix," Hagrid said, still not raising his voice, though it was bright with his usual enthusiasm. He shook the lead slightly. "Beau'iful little fellers, aren' they? They live in swamps and marshes - see th' legs - an' they eat fish, mostly. Closest thing to a dragon yeh c'n find in North America."  
  
He continued without a pause. "Now, yeh can't go startlin' them - mos' of them get eaten by crocodiles an' such 'fore they're full-grown, 's why. So walk up teh one from the front, introduce yerself - quietly now, nice n soft - and keep talkin' while yer close teh them. If yeh go silent and he sees yeh too close, or yeh touch him, he'll bite yeh, if you're lucky. He's more likely teh spit a lick o' fire at yeh, though these two are too young teh make much of it." Hagrid paused this time, making soft clicking noises while he watched Malfoy carefully. "Right then," he finally said. "Who wants teh go first?"  
  
"I will," Uremeshi said, after a second of silence had made it clear the class wasn't eager to get much closer to the animals.  
  
The class stared at him in shock. He hadn't sounded reluctant or hesitant at all.  
  
Uremeshi stepped up in front of the grey-green wratrix, hands in his pockets. "So I'm just supposed to keep talking, right? That's easy enough." The wratrix eyed him nervously as he cocked his head, still speaking. "This guy got a name?"  
  
"She's Mildred," Hagrid answered.  
  
"Mildred, huh? Sounds weird. 'Course, all the names over here sound weird to me." He shifted subtly to speak directly to the wratrix. "You'd probably think mine was weird too, though, in all fairness. Hm… not the prettiest magical creature on the block, are you?" The wratrix snorted, as Yuusuke continued to speak as if Mildred could understand him. "You kind of remind me of this girl I know. Her name is Keiko."  
  
Hiei made a soft sound - possibly amused, possibly disdainful -- as a number of the Slytherins chuckled. Hermione sniffed in offense.  
  
"Your bite's probably as good as her right hook," Yuusuke added, taking one hand out of his pocket and holding it out unthreateningly. Mildred's head inched towards it uncertainly. "Yeah, that's it. Don't bite. I don't taste good." Then Mildred was butting up against Yuusuke's hand, and the boy grinned and began scratching her muzzle. "Not that bad, are you?"  
  
Harry walked up to the other beast, taking the same tactic as Uremeshi. "Well, um, hi. Which is this one, Hagrid?"  
  
"Rover."  
  
"Hi, Rover."  
  
Eventually, slowly, and one by one, everyone in the class had taken a turn petting the wratrixes, except Hiei. Uremeshi shoved him forwards.  
  
"C'mon, I've seen you face down bigger things than this," he said with a laugh.  
  
"Hn." Hiei looked away from the class, and scowled up at Rover, silent. They stared into each other's eyes, and after a minute or so, Rover started to edge back and bristle.  
  
"Eh, Jaganshi, that's… that's no' quite right, yeh gotta speak teh keep 'em calm…" Hagrid stammered, too close to the receiving end of Hiei's look.  
  
Hiei didn't acknowledge that. He continued to scowl up at Rover, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, the dragonlike head sunk submissively… until their faces were level. Then, Rover's ear twitched, and Hiei darted to the side, narrowly dodging a puff of fire.  
  
Lavender and Parvati shrieked, but Hiei simply stepped right back to where he'd been before, ignoring the scorched grass and rapidly cooling cinders under his feet. His hands whipped out, hands clamping on Rover's muzzle, holding the powerful jaws shut.  
  
"Enough," he ordered.  
  
And, surprisingly, Rover obeyed, sagging in defeat.  
  
****  
  
It was Gryffindor and Hufflepuff's turn to tackle the firefangs in Greenhouse Seven.  
  
Hiei knew that Yukina was chilling her vines just enough to keep them docile. He could see it.  
  
"OW!" Yuusuke yelped, snatching his hand away from his creeper yet again and cursing. The flower hissed at him as Hiei glanced over, keeping his expression blank and bored as the other boy instinctively stuck his bleeding finger in his mouth, then spat it back out and made a face. "Bleh! What is this stuff, gasoline?"  
  
"You weren't supposed to taste it, Yuusuke!" Botan said.  
  
"I didn't do it on purpose!"  
  
Hiei rolled his eyes and went back to watching his own plant, ignoring the faint breeze coming in through the broken roof. He was being careful to keep an eye on the flower as the vine writhed under his fingers. (The thorns were little more than an irritant; they were downright soft compared to many Makai vines, or anything of Kurama's. But the flowers bit damn deep.)  
  
 _HIEI, LOOK OUT!!_  
  
Hiei jerked at Kurama's sudden mental intrusion, his flower taking the chance to sink its petals deep into his hand, as a thin, papery tube arced into Hiei's sight from above. It bounced off the worn wood and exploded, showering the nearest firefangs with sparks. They burst into flames.  
  
Faint, blue-white light flashed from Yukina's hands, the little ice maiden instinctively countering the fires, as the other students shrieked. Magical sprinklers activated, dumping frigid water over the students, making the shrieks louder. Hiei yanked the flower from his hand and grabbed at the flames, keeping them away from the corked bottles of firefang juice scattered through the greenhouse. If the fire got to them, the resulting explosions would hurt someone. Possibly Yukina.  
  
"Everybody, form an orderly line and leave the greenhouse!" Professor Sprout called. Unnecessarily, since most of the students were crowding to the door and out. But Hiei caught a glimpse of movement at the corner of his vision. He glanced over even as Hermione shouted.  
  
"Exstinguo!" Harry echoed it a half second later, and Hiei nearly lost his grip on the fire.  
  
"What the bloody hell are you doing?!" Ron yelled.  
  
Before Harry could answer, Professor Sprout caught Ron and Kuwabara by the shoulders and shoved them towards the door. "Get outside, now!"  
  
Hiei took the second to scowl at Harry and Hermione. "You're interfering. Get out."  
  
"We'll be fine," Yukina added, her voice strained. "The fire can't hurt us."  
  
Professor Sprout grabbed the English pair before anything more could be said. "Jaganshi, Koorime, come now."  
  
Yukina stepped backwards, still facing the fire, as the professor pulled her charges bodily away. Hiei matched his sister, a half step closer to the fire, as they backed away more slowly than the three wizards. He glanced backwards once, twice, and then they were halfway through the greenhouse and the professor and students were outside, Sprout turning to come back in for them. He whirled, releasing the fires and snatching Yukina up in the same instant, then darted through the door.  
  
A second later, a series of sharp popping sounds showed the fire had gotten to the bottled firefang juice. Several more panes of glass shattered. Professor Sprout nudged Hiei and Yukina aside, then calmly swished her wand at the greenhouse.  
  
"Suffocus."  
  
The fire snuffed itself out. Turning back, Professor Sprout looked over the drenched, dirt-streaked class. "Is anybody hurt?" The students shuffled, looking each other over and mumbling 'no's. "Very well, then," she said briskly. "Class dismissed. You six-" She gestured towards Hiei, Yukina, and the four she'd had to physically pull away from the fire, "Come with me."  
  
They fell in behind the plump little woman, and Hermione slid between Hiei and Yukina, ignoring Hiei's sharp glare.  
  
"So…" she began, not looking at either of the twins in particular, "what was that about not being hurt by the fire?"  
  
Yukina blushed faintly. "Ano…" She looked past Hermione, at Hiei, uncertainly. He shrugged.  
  
"It's not a secret," he grumbled. But that didn't mean he wanted to explain. The idea grated against most of his Makai survival instincts.  
  
"But it's not something we really talk about much," Yukina murmured.  
  
Hermione frowned. "It would have been nice to know you were fireproof before we tried to help you!" She'd carefully directed the comment mostly at Hiei, but Yukina still flinched. "Now we're going to lose even more points!"  
  
"Shut up, Granger," Hiei snapped.  
  
"I will not shut up! We thought you were going to be hurt! We-"  
  
Professor Sprout whirled, casting a disappointed look at Hermione that cut the girl's words off. "For goodness sake, Miss Granger, you're a prefect." Hermione's mouth snapped shut. The professor waited a beat, then, apparently satisfied that nothing more was forthcoming, she opened the door to her office and ushered the six students in.  
  
When she'd settled herself behind her desk, and shifted several sheets of parchment aside for some undiscernable reason, she sighed. "I'd like an explanation, please." Harry, Hermione, Kuwabara, and Ron all began talking at once. The professor held up a hand. "One at a time. Potter."  
  
Harry glanced apologetically at Hiei and Yukina. "Well, they were trying to put out the fire, and - no offense intended - everyone knows that they're good at Eastern magic, not Western, and we didn't know if that would make a difference. We had to do something."  
  
Hiei snorted, and got a hurt look from Harry.  
  
"No one could be expected to know yet," Yukina murmured, "but… um…"  
  
"They said they're fireproof," Hermione said, when it was obvious Yukina didn't want to say so.  
  
"Not fireproof, exactly," Yukina murmured. "Just… immune. Oniisan and I. And Kazuma has some protections as well. We were trying to put out the blaze… or, at least, slow it down."  
  
Ron's expression soured. "So we risked our necks for nothing?"  
  
"Yes," Hiei said curtly.  
  
"Jaganshi," Sprout chided. Hiei glanced away, the group falling into silence as the little professor rubbed her temples. Finally, she sat back tiredly. "I really shouldn't encourage you, but… five points each to your respective Houses, for protecting your classmates. Dismissed."  
  
****  
  
Draco was walking back from the Prefect's bathroom when he was rudely yanked into an unused classroom. He stumbled, jerked free, and spun to face the mannerless brute, only to come face-to-leaf with a vine. A few feet behind it, Minamino sat primly on an old desk, calmly meeting Draco's glare.  
  
"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," he said, coiling the vine in his hand.  
  
"Not anymore," Draco answered. "What do you want?"  
  
Minamino's face was grim. "The others seem to respect you, so I feel I should tell you that one of our classmates has made a grave tactical error."  
  
Draco gave him a cool look. "Go on."  
  
"He threw a firework into Greenhouse Seven."  
  
"I see." With all the work they'd done this morning with the firefangs, the place must've gone up like a torch. Wait… "Wasn't there a class in there this period?"  
  
Minamino nodded. "Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Fifth-years." He paused, then allowed a faint smile to pass over his face. "Fate has quite the sense of humor," he murmured cryptically. "But that's irrelevant. The point is, a Slytherin did it, and in broad daylight. Considering the class schedules, it's likely that I was the only witness."  
  
Ah, so that was the game. He'd keep quiet… for a price. "Perhaps we could reach an understanding," Draco said, his mind already racing through the possibilities. What was the going rate for someone's silence on this low a level?  
  
"Perhaps we can," Minamino agreed. "I have no wish to ruin Slytherin's good name."  
  
"Of course not." Somewhere around one paid debt, wasn't it?  
  
"Then we agree. You will properly rebuke this student, and prevent such idiocy from repeating itself."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, I could do it, but it won't have any authority coming from me," Minamino pointed out, smiling.  
  
Draco stared. "But… that's it?"  
  
"Of course. What else would there be?"  
  
Maybe Minamino's House loyalties were finally starting to sort themselves out properly. He'd best take this and run with it. "Nothing. Nothing at all."  
  
****  
  
Kurama met up with Hiei in the front hall after dinner, and they headed down into the dungeons for their first detention with Professor Snape.  
  
"We seem to have forgotten the meaning of 'low profile' today, haven't we?" Kurama murmured, on the second flight of stairs. Hiei grunted. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."  
  
"Just say it, before we're stuck with Snape breathing down our necks."  
  
"Fine. Half the school is buzzing about your amazing performance in Care of Magical Creatures, and the other half is speculating about the greenhouse fire. And Malfoy's wary of my skill in Herbology," he murmured in an aside, "but I was expecting that." He glanced sidelong at Hiei. "Should I guess about the Care class, or just annoy you with how you - how are they putting it, 'heroically carried your sister from the building at the last second' - until you talk on your own?"  
  
Hiei flicked him a glare. Kurama smiled back, and waited.  
  
"I should've dealt with the female," Hiei finally muttered, grudgingly.  
  
"Ah…" Animals were too perceptive by half. "He was old enough to challenge?"  
  
"Aa."  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't have agreed to Care of Magical Creatures," Kurama murmured.  
  
Hiei gave him a look that clearly said that he would rather have not agreed to the entire mission in the first place. Kurama ignored the scowl, and pushed open the door to the Potions classroom.  
  
"Good evening, Professor Snape," Kurama said.  
  
The man passed a sour look over them. "Hardly, Mr. Minamino," he sneered. "Though you are, at least, on time." He swept a gesture over the entire classroom, and a day's worth of cauldrons and splatters of failed potions. "These all need to be washed - the Muggle way - and scoured with sand, then dried and stored away. Jaganshi, you will wash; Minamino, dry."  
  
It was not lost on Kurama that Hiei had the bulk of the work to do, and judging from Hiei's scowl, it wasn't lost on him, either. Kurama shifted, brushing his sleeve against Hiei's in a gesture he hoped was placating, as he bowed politely and said, "Yes, Professor."  
  
Snape glared suspiciously, then spun back to his desk. "Well? Begin!"  
  
Hiei grabbed a cauldron, and Kurama found a towel, then stepped over next to the sink to wait while Hiei began the arduous process of washing the dried gunk from it.  
  
Kurama leaned the slightest bit closer and muttered under his breath, "I've met oni with more pleasant dispositions." Hiei huffed faintly in response.  
  
The remainder of detention passed in stony silence.  
  



	11. And the Week Goes On

  
  
Things quieted down somewhat after that, as the transfer students settled in - and everybody else started to get accustomed to their antics... or at least desensitized to them. It was hard to tell which was more accurate, but the Tantei were, in reality, only slightly more violent and strange than many of the things wizardborns were raised with (Acid Pops, Exploding Snap, and Quidditch, for example), and the Muggleborn students tended to lose most of their shock reflex by the end of their first round of classes. So it was probably both.  
  
That wasn't to say the second round of classes was dull, of course…  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"The dragon's fogging everything," Hiei lied, straight-faced.  
  
Trelawney sighed. "Jaganshi… I wish I could hold out more hope for you, child." Hiei doubted that. The woman loved tragedy. "No, no, don't ask… it's too terrible." As if he had any interest in her predictions of doom? He was more willing to believe Kuwabara's ESP. At least it was accurate (and useful), even if it was all echoes of the past.  
  
"Now, Kuwabara… tell me of your scryings."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Kuwabara? Kuwabara!"  
  
Hiei kicked him, jerking him out of his trance. "Wha…? Professor?"  
  
"Your vision, dear."  
  
"I…" Kuwabara pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry. It was all a jumble." Hiei perked slightly. Confused images? Despite the fact that he was an idiot, Kuwabara usually got clear impressions. Or he had for about as long as Hiei had known him. "But… um..." Kuwabara looked up at Trelawney, bewildered. "Something about a horse with a horn on its forehead…?"  
  
"A unicorn, dear."  
  
"Oh. Whatever it was, I think it was dead."  
  
Hiei noticed Harry stiffen. Odd…  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Wands down!" Professor Flitwick called out, climbing down from his desk and shuffling over to the new bush in the room. "Mr. Minamino… this is highly irregular."  
  
Kurama went faintly red. "I… I'm sorry, Professor. I can't explain it."  
  
Flitwick sighed. "After class, you can take your desk down to Professor Sprout and see if she'll plant it. Let's try this again, all right? Nice soft flick, long followthrough, and Accio…"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The glares exchanged by Hiei and Professor Snape were equally venomous.  
  
"This," Snape hissed, gesturing curtly at Hiei's potion, "proves exactly what I suspected: that you have no potions skills, aside from your lab partner's. Five points from Gryffindor." He spun, barely glancing at Kurama's (separate) cauldron. "And five points to Slytherin."  
  
Hiei caught Yuusuke's arm as Snape moved on to the next table. "Don't," he murmured.  
  
"But-"  
  
"If I gave a crap, I'd trash him myself. I don't. Leave it."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
After lunch on Friday, Kurama left the castle grounds, intent on spending his free afternoon learning the areas outside the surveillance of his spyeye vines. The castle's position made for incredible views of the surrounding landscape, which was strategically sound, so there were very few spots Kurama's spyeyes couldn't show from the castle walls: the bottom of the lake, under the spectator towers of the Quidditch pitch, inside Professor Hagrid's hut - all places it was almost pointless to check - and, of course, within the Forbidden Forest.  
  
Kurama had been itching for his chance to get into the Forest. How could he not? One, it was a forest. Two, it was the most obvious vulnerability in Hogwarts' defenses; it covered nearly a third of the perimeter, and even on a bright, clear day like today, you could see hardly ten meters into it. And three, it was forbidden. With an order like that, it's amazing any of us have stayed out of it this long, Kurama thought to himself, as he walked casually along towards Hagrid's hut.  
  
The Care of Magical Creatures book he'd swiped as a prop shifted in his arms. "Behave," Kurama murmured, stroking the spine soothingly. He knocked on the door of the hut.  
  
"Eh? Who's there?" The huge professor opened the door, blinking in surprise at Kurama's presence on his doorstep. His eyes narrowed slightly in recognition, though his next words sounded confused. "An' what are yeh wantin'?"  
  
Kurama held out the book, displaying the front cover with its smeared name label. "I apologize for disturbing you, Professor, but I found this in the front hall." He lifted the cover, showing that the front page was badly torn. "There's no name," Kurama had been very careful to make sure there wasn't one, "so I thought I should give it to you."  
  
Hagrid stared at him for a second, then slowly took the book. "Er… thank you," he said, completely bewildered, exactly as Kurama had planned. By the time the shock of a Slytherin being polite to him had worn off, the half-giant should start wondering why Kurama had gone to all the trouble of bringing him a book… and shortly after that, start trying to figure out if Kurama had booby-trapped it (which he hadn't).  
  
Kurama bowed. "It was no trouble, Professor," he murmured. He caught sight of the nearly poleaxed look on Hagrid's face as he straightened, and bit back a smile. "Have a good day, then." He turned and left, feeling the professor watching him as he headed along the edge of the Forest towards the lake. Then the sense of being watched was gone, and Kurama slipped into the Forest.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"What? Come on, I wanna try this basketball-on-broomsticks thing!"  
  
"Hn."  
  
"It'll be fun-" Yuusuke tried, cutting himself off when Hiei rolled his eyes at the word 'fun'. He changed tactics. "It'll probably be a better challenge than anything else we can do here. Unless you'd rather dance on the roof again instead?"  
  
Hiei shot him a deadly glare. "I. Don't. Dance."  
  
"Whatever. Think about it. You'll be thirty meters up. You'll have thirteen other people - seven opponents, six deadweights - and two flying cannonballs trying to mess with you. And you'll be trying to use an almost completely new type of weapon: a broomstick. I'll even promise to whack a few Bludgers your way. Okay?"  
  
"…… deal."  
  
Yuusuke grinned, then turned to Harry. "Potter! Got another player!" he called across the common room.  
  
"Great!" Harry smiled at Hiei. "Now we just need four more."  
  
"What about Kurama?" Yuusuke asked. Most of the small, predominantly-Gryffindor group shot him scandalized looks.  
  
"He's busy," Hiei said shortly. The others visibly relaxed.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
It was oddly gloomy in the Forbidden Forest, with heavy mists flowing in silvery tatters over the ground. The leafy canopy high above Kurama's head was unnaturally thick, allowing only rare slivers of the day's sunshine through intact. The rest was filtered to an eerie shade of green, as dark as the minutes before a massive thunderstorm.  
  
Kurama made his way through a wide swath of trees and underbrush covered with scorch marks, holes, oddly colored blobs, and tentacles. (Yuusuke Was Here, Kurama thought wryly of the scorch marks and holes, though he couldn't figure out what had caused the other oddities. Perhaps those twins who'd had detention last Sunday…?) Past the damage, he slid into a slight dip in the land, finding a sluggish, clear-running stream. He quickly rolled up his pants legs and took off his shoes and socks, knotting the laces together and slinging them over one shoulder. Then he stepped into the water and began making his way downstream. The water was distressingly cold, but Kurama ignored the chill. Perhaps it was a bit paranoid, but better to be safe - and not be leaving a scent trail - than hunted.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
They'd only been flying for about an hour before, predictably, the Slytherin Quidditch team showed up.  
  
"Off the field, Potter!" Malfoy yelled up to them. "We've got practice!"  
  
Harry groaned. "The season hasn't even started yet!" he yelled back. "The field's free to whoever asks first!" And no one could be having an official practice, not until after tryouts. Only six of the Slytherin "team" were actually on it; the seventh player standing with them had to be an unofficial replacement for Flint, who'd graduated.  
  
Malfoy merely smirked, and waved a folded sheet of parchment.  
  
The two teams slowly angled towards the ground, Harry in the lead. He touched down, left his broomstick, and wearily asked, "Can't you think of anything more original than running to Snape?"  
  
"Yeah, like finding something better to do?" Ron grumbled. "Oh, wait, you're Draco wanking Malfoy, your mission in life is to be a pest."  
  
Malfoy sneered at him. "And yours is to waste space. Run along and waste it somewhere else."  
  
The largest of the Slytherins with him - Adrian Pucey, a gorilla-faced 6th-year with all the build and IQ of a brick wall - stirred. "And take your Mudbloods with you."  
  
"Mudblood," Uremeshi repeated flatly. "Why don't I like the sound of that?"  
  
"It's an insult," Hiei replied. He hadn't been there the day Kuwabara had gotten detention over the word, Harry recalled. Maybe Yukina had told him. "It means your parents are Muggles."  
  
Uremeshi scowled. "Well. Guess I'm a Mudblood, then." He turned his attention to Pucey, glaring up (and up, and up…) at the boy. "Ya got a problem with that?"  
  
"Yes," Pucey said.  
  
"Ch'. At least you're honest about it." There was something lighter, almost approval, in Uremeshi's voice. "Let's get to it, then."  
  
Pucey's face screwed up in incomprehension. "Get to… what?"  
  
"The fight," Uremeshi said. "You're obviously picking one, and I'm tired of looking at your ugly mug." He waited while Pucey processed that.  
  
"No more talk?" Pucey finally asked, slowly. Uremeshi shook his head: no, no more taunting. Pucey's eyes lit up as that clicked in his mind, and he went for his wand.  
  
Uremeshi stepped fluidly forward, fist sweeping up and under Pucey's guard, slamming high into his gut. The 6th-year keeled over, eyes rolling back into his head and wand dropping from nerveless fingers. Uremeshi stepped out of his way as he slumped to the ground, unconscious.  
  
"That," he grumbled, "was pathetic."  
  
As if the words had snapped them from shock, the remaining six Slytherins went for their wands. Four years of schooling with Malfoy and his ilk had left their mark on Harry and his classmates; they went for theirs in the same instant. Suddenly, Uremeshi was standing in the crossfire of over a dozen wands.  
  
"That," Malfoy snarled, "is going to get you expelled."  
  
"Not if you hex him," Harry said coolly.  
  
"Yeah. He was going for his wand," Seamus said. "Self-defense. Who's gonna believe Uremeshi attacked a guy twice his size for no reason?"  
  
Uremeshi smirked. "Fourteen stories to seven. Like those odds, Malfoy?"  
  
Malfoy waited another beat, gray eyes cold and calculating, then his face twisted. He stepped back, wand falling to his side. "Derrick, pick Pucey up," he snapped. "We obviously can't practice now."  
  
The 7th-year cast a somewhat shaky Mobilicorpus, and the team started to walk away. Harry and the others watched, wary of turning their backs on the Slytherins, and tensed when Malfoy turned.  
  
"This isn't over, Potter!" he shouted.  
  
"Never bloody is," Harry muttered under his breath.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama followed the stream, wandering from one side to the other as plants caught his eye through the mists. The time of year was perfect; every species that produced seeds was laden with ripe or nearly-ripe fruits and pods. The few that used some other method of reproduction still had fresh twigs and leaves that Kurama could work with.  
  
The stream here cut sharply through its banks, its bed littered with smooth, shifting pebbles that made the footing unstable. Kurama had some difficulty climbing out without getting mud streaked on his pants, but it was far less hassle than a twisted ankle would be if he stayed in the stream. He put his shoes back on and picked his way over to a patch of low, leafy vines. Crouching among them, he began to gently press the leaves aside, looking for seed pods.  
  
Something rustled behind Kurama. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing nothing. His eyes narrowed, and he deliberately turned back to the bit of undergrowth he was pawing through, hoping to draw out whatever it was.  
  
Another rustle, on the far side of the stream. And there, something flickered at the corner of his vision. It seemed there was more than one. (Wait for it… wait…) His questing fingers brushed against a spiky bit of twig (blackberry: workable), and closed over it (not yet…) as the sense of movement behind him increased…  
  
Now!  
  
He spun midstream, his arm snapping up defensively, mouth opening with the words on the tip of his tongue (Blackberry Whip!) in the same instant that he caught sight of the several dozen tiny creatures frozen in shock… His arm dropped.  
  
"Wood sprites," he murmured ruefully. It figured… even non-magical forests harbored a few of the things, so the Forbidden Forest should be (and evidently, was) infested with them. This particular species resembled a twig doll, perhaps fifteen centimeters or so tall, with pincer-like hands and flat, brown-eyed little faces. Kurama tucked the sprig of blackberry away in his hair, bemused by their presence. Since when did the creatures leave their nests?  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked, not really expecting them to fully understand or answer. The sprites just stared at him, one bold one taking a single, hesitant step closer. Kurama raised his chin. "You can go back to your trees now," he said.  
  
They stared at him, wide-eyed. Kurama's hand finally came in contact with the pod he'd been looking for, and he plucked it, tucked it into his hair, and stood. He turned his back on the creatures and started downstream.  
  
After a few minutes, he heard the underbrush behind him rustling again. He suppressed a sigh and glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, the sprites were following him. This was ridiculous. He was a fox, not a mother duck! And it was hardly discreet to have a herd of tree spirits on his tail, so to speak.  
  
Kurama turned once more, giving the sprites a flat stare. "Go home," he said coldly. "Guard your trees, not me. I don't need it."  
  
He waited, but they didn't move. So Kurama knelt, pressing his palm to the ground, and sent a low burst of power into the underbrush. Tiny vines shot out, wrapping around every sprite. "I said," he murmured, standing, "leave. Me. Alone."  
  
Kurama left them struggling in his vines, and took off running. He'd carefully not grown the roots properly, so the vines would wilt within minutes without his power, and he did NOT want to be near the area when the little spirits were freed. If his point had gotten across, they'd return to protecting their nests; if it hadn't, and he was still around, they'd flock to him. He would have to kill them, then, since he couldn't be out here til dawn trying to match them all back up with their trees.  
  
When he got far enough away that he deemed it safe to slow down, he looked around and realized that Hagrid's hut was just over the next rise. He'd made a fairly decent haul, for his first venture into the Forest, and it was getting close to dinnertime… decision made, Kurama angled away from the hut, skirting the forest's edge until most of the castle's view was blocked by the Quidditch pitch. Then, he found a shallow dip in the land and simply walked out of the Forest.  
  
Several minutes later, he reached a side door several floors below Gryffindor Tower. It wasn't locked or warded, fortunately, and he pushed it open. As he took the first step from the grass onto the flagstones paving the corridors, he felt 'Youko' fade towards the back of his mind, as 'Shuiichi' slid to the forefront… which was, seconds later, what prompted him to yelp when something lightweight snagged at his pants leg, scrambling upwards until it caught his hair and clung. He twisted and yanked his hair over his shoulder. Two large brown eyes blinked up at him from a flat, woodlike face.  
  
"Not you again!" he groaned.  
  
The wood sprite twisted its pincer-like hands more firmly in his hair and snuggled in response.  
  
Now what? Kurama wondered as he headed towards the more populated areas of Hogwarts. It was one thing to kill a wood sprite in the Forest, but it was something entirely different to kill in the castle. (Why? Youko's persona asked. It's even less discreet to have this thing hanging off you in here!)  
  
Kurama frowned, pushing the sprite away slightly as it tried to curl up against his neck. It'll be all but impossible to hide the evidence - sap and bits of flesh and whatnot - without using a Makai plant. Then all it would take is that caretaker, or a teacher, or one too-curious student, and I'd have a dead human and a Reikai sentence on my hands. And NOT hiding the evidence is out of the question!  
  
Soft, Youko accused. Maybe we can dump it in the greenhouses, then. And pay attention; student, dead ahead.  
  
Kurama shook off his musings and tossed his hair back where it belonged, hiding the tree sprite. "Excuse me," he murmured. The girl turned, the polite half-smile on her face turning into a frown as she recognized him as a Slytherin. "Do you know where I might find Professor Sprout?"  
  
"She might be in the greenhouse," the girl - a redheaded Hufflepuff - replied coolly. "Or her offi-what the..?! Isn't that a bowtruckle?"  
  
Kurama tensed slightly, as she stared at his shoulder, and at the sprite who'd pushed Kurama's hair aside to peer out curiously. "Is that what you call them?" he asked, putting a bit of amusement in his voice. In reality, he was not happy that a student had seen the little beast. "Our word translates as 'wood sprite'."  
  
She ignored his comment, as she thought of something else. "How on earth did you get it away from its tree?!"  
  
"Not on purpose, I assure you," Kurama said dryly.  
  
"It's not easy to 'accidentally' remove a bowtruckle from the forest," the girl said skeptically. "Especially since students aren't even allowed in the Forest. That's why we call it 'Forbidden'."  
  
"I wasn't in the forest," Kurama lied easily. "I was near it - near the Caretaker's cottage. I saw a few of these sprites and investigated, but I didn't try to remove them! This one must have attached itself to my robes."  
  
"You expect me to believe that?"  
  
"Look," Kurama said, wincing as the bowtruckle tightened its grip on his hair, "it doesn't matter if you believe me or not. Take me to whichever professor you like, but please, it's hurting me!" If that little display didn't convince her, nothing would.  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "Fine. I know where Gryffindor's Head of House is right now, I'll take you to her."  
  
"Thank you," Kurama murmured, easily seeing through the ploy. If she wanted to test his sincerity, he'd go along with it.  
  
She blinked. "Oh. Um… right, then. This way."  
  
Kurama fell into step a half-pace behind her, making a show of trying to hold the bowtruckle away without making it pull harder on his hair. "Um, might I ask your name?"  
  
"Bones. Susan Bones."  
  
"Kurama Minamino," he said in turn. So this was the classmate Harry had mistaken him for?  
  
"I know."  
  
"I suppose everyone does," he muttered ruefully, just as the bowtruckle gave another tug. Hiei will never let me live this down.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hiei stared into the greenish depths of his tea mug, coldly ignoring the din of Hogwart's Saturday lunch. On one side, Yuusuke was talking to Keiko. Hiei ducked Yuusuke's elbow yet a sixth time, as the other boy tried to demonstrate a Quidditch play using his fork, a serving spoon, and a half-eaten roll. With only two hands, the attempt wasn't working too well.  
  
On Hiei's other side, the Weasley twins were arguing in half-sentences over a sheet of parchment, eyes bright as they pointed and scribbled notes, their conversation unintelligible to anyone but themselves.  
  
"But if we-"  
  
"No, see, if we use more newt-"  
  
"Ah, right you are, but it won't last-"  
  
"You'd better not be planning to test those on us," Hermione said, not looking up from her book. She'd been lugging the massive DADA text around the castle with a weight-reducing carryall charm, reading more of it at every opportunity. She tilted the book towards Hiei. "Hey, Jaganshi, this didn't translate. What's it mean?"  
  
Hiei raised an eyebrow at the page in question. "You don't need to know that."  
  
"Jaganshi--!" Hermione whined.  
  
Nosy human. "Most of the language doesn't translate, but it reads o-grd-jci-ln, kao-yh-bgx, souo-mq-lh-gtrwn," he grumbled, carefully keeping the inflections wrong to prevent the spell from activating.  
  
He felt the temperature drop almost imperceptibly behind him. "It's a confining cantrip," Yukina murmured faintly, leaning across the aisle. "Like they used…" she trailed off.  
  
Hiei didn't want to know if she meant those were the spells the Koorime used on the blankets they'd wrapped her brother -- him -- in when they'd thrown him away, or if she meant the wards used by the teargem wholesaler who'd held her captive for five all-too-recent years.  
  
"You know this, Koorime?" Hermione asked, brightening.  
  
No! Hiei wanted to shout.  
  
"Well… just a bit. I, er, had some time to study them recently," Yukina murmured.  
  
"Could you show me, Koorime?" Hermione asked. "And you too, Jaganshi? You know the language… what language is it, anyway? It didn't sound like anything I've ever heard. And I would really appreciate it, Jaganshi, Koorime-"  
  
"'ey…" Ron mumbled around a roll, interrupting, "why's yer las' name diff'ernt from 'ers, 'nyway?"  
  
Shit! Hiei tensed, feeling rather than seeing Yuusuke and Kuwabara freeze at the same instant. What with everything else on their minds (and Hiei's reluctance to press the issue; Yukina would see how bad a brother he was soon enough), they'd overlooked the little detail that Koenma had given the school different last names for Hiei and Yukina.  
  
"Um…" Kuwabara began.  
  
"Er… well… you see…"  
  
"Custody," Keiko supplied smoothly.  
  
Hiei's head snapped around, his eyes narrowing. What the hell was a 'custody'?  
  
Yuusuke seemed to know. He was nodding in agreement, eyes narrowing as he visibly got an idea. He leaned over the table, towards Hermione. "It's very messy," he half-whispered behind his hand, pointing less-than-subtly at Hiei. "We don't talk about it, kay?"  
  
Hiei got up and stalked off, outwardly fuming. Later he could find Kurama and find out what a 'custody' was, but until then… this worked. Nice save.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Slightly before dawn on Sunday morning, Hiei's eyes snapped open. He wasted a split second, disoriented by a soft, empty bed and utter blackness (no light... but it's a full moon…?) before he remembered he'd slept in his Gryffindor bed, behind drawn curtains. Another half-second passed before he heard it: there was an extra breathing pattern in the room. He leapt for it, slapping the curtains aside, empty hand descending for a disabling blow (and damned if he didn't wish he could sleep properly, with his sword, in this school, but no... idiots!).  
  
He pulled his punch, his fist landing harmlessly in Genkai's hand. She raised an eyebrow at him, mouth quirking in a faint smile. Hiei echoed the expression and stood aside, allowing her to step silently up next to Yuusuke's bed. She paused a moment, gazing down at the boy almost affectionately, before leaping into the air.  
  
"UP, YOU LAZY IDIOT!!!" she yelled, her foot snapping out and catching Yuusuke in the ribs, catapulating him out of bed. Yelps from the other beds told Hiei that her shout had woken most of the other boys in the room, though Kuwabara's snores continued.  
  
Yuusuke somersaulted in midair, managing to throw himself out of the arc and towards the ground. He landed in a crouch as the curtains on a couple of the beds were flailed and batted aside.  
  
"Not again…" Seamus groaned. Harry echoed the sentiment wordlessly as he fumbled his glasses into place.  
  
Ron shoved his head past his curtains, squinting a bleary-eyed glare in Genkai's direction. "Is this going to be every bloody week?" he asked, with a sort of irritation Hiei guessed came from being related to the Weasley twins.  
  
"Yes," Genkai replied.  
  
"Earplugs it is, then, chaps," Seamus muttered, "and might I add that we should consider booby-trapping the door?"  
  
Genkai's attention flicked away from Yuusuke. "I will expect that, then, gentlemen. Five points from Gryffindor if you do not trap this room by the end of the month."  
  
The boys' jaws dropped.


	12. The Core of a Peripheral Problem

  
  
After another Monday of being bored to sleep in History, sneered at and mistreated in Potions, and driven up the wall in Divination - not to mention having nearly choked on the incense, more so than usual - the absolute last thing Harry wanted to do was get another mindboggling lecture on the origin of the world and its magic. How the heck was that related to Defense Against the Dark Arts, anyway?  
  
He entered the room with some trepidation and slumped into his seat. A couple of minutes later, Genkai stepped up onto the teaching dais.  
  
"Homework out, books away," she ordered. "Come to the front of the room, and place your essays on the desk as you pass." As the bemused class obeyed, the little professor turned to the blackboard hanging on the wall. Pushing on a corner, she rotated it until it hung vertically, then took a piece of chalk, drew a circle on one side, and pulled it out into a knob. She quickly sketched a complicated little symbol on the knob, then turned it. The blackboard, now a door, swung open on silent hinges, and she gestured the class inside.  
  
Harry examined the room, as Gryffindor gravitated towards one side and Slytherin towards the other. They stood on the top of three terraces, each the width of a bench and stairstepping downwards, encircling the round room. A low wall sat about two feet in front of the bottom terrace, marking the edge of a pit ten feet deep and thirty across. Light from an undiscernable source bathed the unadorned stone. The ceiling was domed. That was it.  
  
"Now this is more like it," Yuusuke said, eyes bright as he looked at the pit.  
  
Harry sat down on the lowest terrace, feeling oddly small and out-of-place as his House clustered together opposite Slytherin. He glared boldly at them, in defiance of the feeling, getting the usual sneers and disdain from them in turn… until he caught Kurama's eye. The redhead gave him a level, non-hostile look, then turned his attention to the professor.  
  
Genkai leapt up onto the low wall, glancing at the two Houses with some exasperation, but she didn't remark on their placement. "Now that you are at least aware that there is magic in everything, not just so-called 'magical' things," she announced, referring to their homework, "we begin on core and surface magic.  
  
"The vast majority of Western magic is surface magic. The practitioner mostly relies on wands, incantations, or rituals in order to control the magic, with more or less identical results. It is a science, very practical to teach en masse." She flicked her wand, and a large sphere appeared above the pit, outlined in gently glowing vertical and horizontal lines. "First-year Transfiguration is an excellent example, though more advanced transfiguations tend to progress farther towards the other type of magic, which I will be explaining in a moment. In basic Transfiguration, I reorder the lines of its surface magic like so-" a wave of her wand distorted the glowing lines, and they resettled to outline a cube, "and I have an object that appears different. But in the end, I've done very little to it. It is the same with Charms - reordering the lines of an action, rather than an object - and with Potions. You can get into extremely complex, effective magic without risking much more than a nasty explosion.  
  
"Core magic is entirely different." The glowing lines faded to black, and a blob of blue light appeared inside the cube. "Working on this level is an art, and is difficult to teach if you have large numbers of students. It also requires far more of an investment than a gesture and a word. For this reason alone, most people do not care to learn it. They prefer to gamble that they will be able to keep their head when they are attacked, to either identify and remember the best spell to subdue their attacker, or to improvise." She stared levelly at the class. "Most people, I've found, can barely remember their names, much less think of a spell or improvise surface magic with any success during a fight. Core magic does not require thought. It does not require funny words or precisely angled gestures with a wand. Core magic requires only instinct, personal insight - which can be taught - and, most importantly, a bit of power from your life."  
  
"Our life?!" Millicent Bulstrode blurted. "It can't be that much better!"  
  
Genkai almost smirked, and flicked her wand to make the cube vanish. "Minamino? Care to demonstrate?"  
  
Kurama looked startled. "Professor…?"  
  
She beckoned, and he stood, walking up next to her. She murmured to him for a moment, then stepped aside and gestured into the pit. "In you go."  
  
He leapt neatly into the pit, standing calmly as Genkai tapped the stone with her wand. A momentary shimmer outlined a transparent dome over the enclosure. Hermione tapped at it curiously, getting a few harmless sparks out of it for the trouble. Inside the pit, a pillar slowly rose from the floor opposite Kurama. It reached the height of eight feet, and ground to a stop.  
  
Silence.  
  
Harry blinked as the pillar began to waver slightly in his vision. Then the blurring went almost imperceptibly orange, and he recognized the telltale signs of a spell forming on the pillar's surface. Confused, since it was happening far too slowly, Harry leaned forward.  
  
The blurring coalesced and fired at Kurama. He darted a step to one side, dodging it, and it blasted into the wall, leaving a sizeable crack.  
  
Students on both sides bolted upright, shouting in horror - the spell was actually dangerous! - as Kurama snapped his wrist. His wand slipped out of his sleeve, and he fired a return shot.  
  
"Displodo!"  
  
The hex rebounded off the pillar, and Kurama was forced to duck it. This one, too, left a crack, chips of stone flying outwards with the smoke. The pillar fired again - Kurama rolled - and again - he leapt backwards - and again, the shots coming more and more quickly.  
  
"The pillar is mimicking your average demon opponent," Genkai said dispassionately, "who make up the vast majority of sentient Dark practitioners. Not that surface magic spells don't work on demons. They do! But that is assuming your spell even connects - notice that not one shot has actually hit Minamino; any opponent with half a brain cell will dodge, just as he's doing - and that your spell is enough to phase the demon. Casting a Jelly-Legs Jinx, for example, will just make a wind demon laugh at you."  
  
In the pit, Kurama jumped over a shot that left the stone behind him smoking, and flipped mid-air, another spell rocketing past.  
  
"Of course," Genkai added, "a real demon wouldn't have started with a Blasting Charm. A real demon would have started like this…" She snapped her wand towards the pit. "Expelliarmus! Accio wand!"  
  
Harry surged out of his seat with the rest of the Gryffindors, and a number of the Slytherins. "Hey!"  
  
With a yelp, Kurama clutched at his hand as his wand was blasted out of it, sailing through the forcefield to Genkai's hand. He barely ducked another shot from the pillar, which clipped a few strands of hair and left a welt on his jaw.  
  
"This is the usual result of using surface magic against a demon," Genkai said flatly. Kurama brought his right hand to his chin, fingers lightly tracing the welt as all expression drained from his face. The pillar began to build up another too-slow blast, like the first shot it had fired. "A long fight, and eventual failure. This would be the part where the demon gloats; most of them have a bad habit of doing that."  
  
Kurama flung his arm out, a flower - a rose - appearing in his hand. "Rose Whip!" he shouted, and snapped his arm forward. A barbed, green whip sliced through the air and into the pillar, cutting deeply into the stone. A couple more passes, and the pillar collapsed into a pile of rubble.  
  
Genkai's voice cut into the sudden silence. "And that, Miss Bulstrode, would be the advantage of using core magic." As Kurama calmly returned the whip to a rose and tucked it up his sleeve, Genkai continued, "Now, for some of the DISadvantages… besides the risk that a prolonged fight or a too-powerful technique will use up all your life energy and leave you dead.  
  
"Disadvantage one: Affinity. No one can use the core magic of everything. Your soul's energies must match the surface magic of something enough that you can get past it to the core. Minamino, here, matches almost perfectly with plants, as you may have guessed.  
  
"Disadvantage two: Self-delusion. The magic of core magic is the magic of your soul. Blinding yourself to your faults means blinding yourself to the holes in your defense.  
  
She cast a stern eye over the class. "Homework: 36 inches about yourself, in any format you like… essay, list, brainstorm, freewrite; I don't care, as long as there are 36 inches. I do NOT want a single word about your appearance, your heritage, your fame," Harry winced, "your family's achievements, your friends, et cetera. You will write about your strengths, skills, interests, dislikes, and faults.  
  
"Dismissed."  
  
****  
  
As they left the room and headed down to dinner early, Harry's head was spinning. Part of it was the flood of information the professor had so tersely set out (An entirely different field of magic? Was this what she intended to teach them? In a mere three years, if she stayed that long at the school?), but, oddly, his mind kept returning to the fleeting look Kurama had just before he summoned that whip and sliced the stone pillar as if it was butter.  
  
There had been something about that look that just didn't mesh with the Kurama Harry knew.  
  
****  
  
As he left the room and headed downstairs to drop off his books, Crabbe and Goyle in tow, Draco's head was spinning.  
  
An entirely different field of magic! One that was far stronger than the magic normal wizards wielded, if the demonstration was any indication… and one that couldn't be detected by normal wizards, as shown by his experience with Minamino's Devil's Snare. What he could do with such power…  
  
Which was exactly what Genkai had wanted, he would bet. The lecture and demonstration had been carefully calculated to appeal to both Houses. The hidden strength Minamino had shown was exactly what a Slytherin wanted to possess, and the flashy display itself was enough to catch the attention and interest of a horde of Gryffindors. Her Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff lecture would probably be completely different.  
  
There was just one detail that Draco's mind kept returning to: the fleeting look in Minamino's eyes, just before he'd brought out his flower and destroyed the pillar. The boy in the pit had, for that instant, been the cold, dangerous person Draco had met while held down with Devil's Snare.  
  
****  
  
Hiei slipped away from the group at some point between the DADA classroom and the Great Hall. He hadn't reappeared by the time dinner was in full swing (and, oddly, Kurama hadn't shown up, either). Crestfallen, Hermione divided her attention between writing down questions and glancing towards the doors, with only the barest fraction left to spare for eating her dinner.  
  
"Perhaps he doesn't feel like being interrogated tonight," Ron said, after Hermione had peered around him yet a third time. Hermione gave him a withering look, and he added, "You've been asking him an awful lot of questions. Probably driving him nuts. Pass the pumpkin juice?"  
  
Hermione sniffed, but handed Ron the pitcher, then leaned towards Uremeshi. "Can you tell me more about core magic?"  
  
"Nope," he answered cheerfully. "We kinda stumbled into it before we met the old hag - Kuwabara there tapped into his during her qualification tests, in fact - so she never bothered explaining it to us." He popped a glob of rice into his mouth, swallowed, and added, "Try Kurama. He's got the most experience."  
  
"And he won't bite your ear off like the shrimp would," Kuwabara said.  
  
"Hiei would never--" Hermione began automatically, only to be cut off when the two burst out laughing. She made a face. "Okay, so he might. But he's been really nice about answering questions…"  
  
"Yeah…" Kuwabara said slowly, face twisting in concentration. "It's really kinda weird. Maybe Kurama drugged him?"  
  
"Would he do that?" Neville asked, eyes wide.  
  
Uremeshi elbowed Kuwabara. "Nah, of course not. Hiei would kill him… er, not literally. But he'd be pissed. I bet it's just that he and Yukina wouldn't be happy if Hiei ripped into someone just for asking a few questions-"  
  
"More like a few dozen," Ron said under his breath.  
  
"Whatever. He's trying to be halfway tolerable in public this year, though." Uremeshi offered a winning smile. "Help him out a bit and lay off, wouldja?"  
  
****  
  
On the wide window ledge of Kurama's dorm, Hiei abruptly sneezed. He blinked, somewhat startled.  
  
In front of him, Kurama raised equally startled eyes from the depths of his tea mug, then his mouth quirked faintly upwards. "Someone must be talking about you," he murmured. The possibility that Hiei might be coming down with a cold was left unspoken and unconsidered; demons weren't really susceptible to anything milder than full-blown pneumonia.  
  
Hiei grunted, acknowledging the statement, and took a vicious bite out of his rice ball. "So," he asked, "what did she trade you for that little display?"  
  
"The Displodo charm," Kurama answered. "It was a fair trade, I suppose."  
  
"She forced the deal," Hiei said flatly.  
  
"No more than Ko... than he did, getting us to come." Hiei raised an eyebrow at him, and Kurama amended, "Not much more than he did. I suppose if I'd really wanted to, I could have refused the deal without making the class suspiscious." But he hadn't, he recalled. When Genkai had called him up in front of the class, and whispered her deal - she'd tell him the exact way to cast a Blasting Charm, if he spent a few minutes of his time underscoring her point in lecture - it hadn't seemed worth the effort to refuse. Especially with the weight of all those eyes on him… Shuiichi had pressed for obedience to the professor's wishes, and Youko had already been appeased by the spell and the prospect of showing off a bit.  
  
"I don't like it," Hiei was saying. Naturally, he wouldn't like it, Kurama thought. Genkai might think she could pressure him into doing something next time. And that brought up the fact that there just might be a next time, for either of them.  
  
The redhead set his tea down. "Neither do I."  
  



	13. Quidditch and the Inner You

  
  
  
"Hiei, can I talk to you?"  
  
Hiei stood and inclined his head at Keiko, inviting her to follow, and left the Hall (and the remains of his lunch) with the human girl hurrying in his wake. When he'd found an acceptable spot, out of the way and with no place for eavesdroppers to hide, he turned to face her.  
  
"We had Defense this morning," Keiko told him flatly. "Genkai wants us to write an essay about ourselves, to help us narrow down what our core magic might be." She paused, visibly braced herself, then stared Hiei directly in the eye and said, "Hiei, what's my core magic?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "I still don't know," he replied.  
  
"But you spent half the summer working on it," Keiko prompted. "You must have some idea."  
  
Hiei was silent for a long moment, considering whether to answer that. He stepped back and started to pace, circling her. Keiko turned her head to keep a slightly wary eye on him.  
  
"Perhaps," he admitted, deciding to opt for the truth.  
  
"Well?" she asked.  
  
"Have you been hearing voices? Seeing things?" She shook her head in confusion. He finished his circle and tapped her on the forehead with a knuckle. "Does that hurt?"  
  
"No…"  
  
"Green tint to your complexion? Sore spots anywhere?"  
  
"No."  
  
His expression didn't change. "Feel any urge to attack people and make zombies?"  
  
"Of course not!"  
  
"That eliminates any match to the Eye, or the Ghostslayer," Hiei muttered.  
  
"What's the Ghostslayer?"  
  
Hiei shot her a glare. "None of your business," he snapped.  
  
Keiko huffed. "Fine. It's my core magic, but if you don't want to tell me, I can ask Genkai. Or Yuusuke."  
  
Hiei stiffened in surprise. Then his eyes narrowed. Whether it was intentional or not, the human girl had hit upon her one bit of leverage over him; Yuusuke would tell her, and then get a lot of grief over having ever trusted Hiei at all. Yuusuke might… no. He wouldn't reconsider that trust, not after the Tournament. Probably not even after the Gate of Betrayal, when he'd flat-out told Hiei he trusted him (to at least kill him in a fair fight).  
  
And Hiei was being a fool for thinking that the moment at the Gate was anything Keiko could damage! It was important to him, not Yuusuke.  
  
"It's what gave you magic for me to work with in the first place," he said tightly. "And beyond that, you do not need to know. The power's adapted to you." He paused. "You're going to have to do the essay just like everybody else."  
  
"Oh… okay." Keiko bowed politely. "Thank you, Hiei." She turned to leave, then paused. "There's absolutely nothing else you can think of that might be important?"  
  
Hiei thought for a moment. If it was him asking, he'd like to know that the Jagan had been merged with Ghostslayer at the time… but that was inviting too many questions about that whole mess. Still… he shrugged. "Most of it came from the Eye. It may still reflect that."  
  
"'May'?"  
  
"It was an odd mix of magic." That should be enough.  
  
"An odd mix…" Keiko murmured. "I… see. Thank you, Hiei."  
  
"Hn."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
A whistle pierced the gathering darkness over the Quidditch pitch, courtesy of Angelina Johnson. The 7th-year Chaser (and, this year, Captain) waited until the last student had landed, then grinned out at the small crowd.  
  
"Right then! Good job, everyone!" Her voice, despite being higher than her teammates' and not magically enhanced, carried well. "We've seen some great flying tonight, and I, for one, think this is going to be a tough decision. We'll announce the results later on tonight. Thank you for coming!"  
  
Harry followed Angelina and the rest of the team into the locker room as the crowd dispersed. The girl's eyes were bright as she turned towards them. "This is going to be a great year for the team," she all but crowed.  
  
"Oh no," Fred groaned.  
  
"It's a speech!" George moaned.  
  
"We're doomed!" they chorused.  
  
Angelina rapped the pair smartly on their heads with her clipboard, getting identical yelps. "I'm not Oliver, thanks." They turned overdone injured expressions on her, getting nothing but an amused snort before she made herself comfortable and began.  
  
An hour later, they'd narrowed it down to four.  
  
"Okay, so your brother is the only person we can all agree on for Keeper, even though people are going to wonder if it's because he's actually good or because he's got you and Harry on the team-"  
  
"Tough," George grumbled.  
  
Angelina shot them a sharp look. "-so we're going to have keep an eye out for that," she finished. "Harry, I'd like you to try to work with him a little more outside of practice. He really is the best shot we've got for Keeper."  
  
That left three.  
  
"Andrew Kirke, Patricia Stimpson, and Yuusuke Uremeshi," Angelina mused, as if she hadn't seen the names several times over the past hour.  
  
"They're all pretty good," Harry offered.  
  
"Kirke's the one I'm pretty sure on," Fred said. "Flew well, kept his cool, good arm…"  
  
"Same here," George said. "I can't really tell about Stimpson and Uremeshi, though. They seemed pretty evenly matched."  
  
Angelina tapped those two sheets of notes a bit away from the rest. "Uremeshi's broomwork is a little sloppy, particularly on his turns, and his grip could've been better. His right hand kept slipping when the Bludgers came at him."  
  
"It looked more to me like he kept going to hit them," Fred mentioned. "Dumbest thing I've ever seen, if he was."  
  
"But," Angelina continued, "Stimpson's throwing is a lot weaker than his, she's not as fast, and she's in our year. She'll be graduating with us." Which would stick Harry with four slots to fill, and relatively little in the way of experienced players, next year. "If Uremeshi's flying was better, I'd say take him."  
  
Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Give him a break. He's only been flying for two weeks."  
  
"That's right… you weren't watching their flight test," Fred said to the girl. "Minamino and Jaganshi weren't the only ones with, er, explosive starts."  
  
"They all set their brooms showering sparks, first time around," George explained. "One of the Hufflepuffs conjured up something else to fly on, but it definitely wasn't a broom."  
  
Angelina peered narrowly at them. "You're sure he'll improve?"  
  
Fred shrugged. "He's either been flying something else all his life, or he's never flown before. Either way, I think he'll get better."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Okay," Angelina said decisively. "We'll take him. Let's go make the announcement."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry sat by the window open to the early autumn air, jotting down thoughts for his Defense essay. It was oddly similar to his preparations for the First Task, he thought. Of course, last year he hadn't actually written down the list of his talents that he and Hermione had come up with. Last year, Ron hadn't been speaking to them, and he certainly wouldn't have been doing his homework with them like he was now.  
  
Last year, Cedric hadn't been dead…  
  
"Ron," Hermione's voice thankfully cut off Harry's train of thought, "you can't say you're the next-to-youngest Weasley."  
  
"But I am."  
  
"But you can't put that. Professor Genkai said nothing about your family."  
  
Ron looked lost. Hermione scooted a little closer to him, peering at his parchment. "Here… you like the Chudley Cannons, right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"But why?" she prodded. "They always lose."  
  
"You don't give up on a team just because they're losing!" Ron sputtered. "They'll get better!"  
  
"Many people would, Ron." Hermione sat back. "You don't. That shows a personality trait… a lot of them, actually. Just write that down, and then find something else you like."  
  
Ron stared back down at the parchment, then, slowly, his eyes lit up. "I beat McGonagall's chess set."  
  
"That's right!" Hermione sounded pleased.  
  
Harry bit his lower lip, remembering that night, and Quirell. Then, under 'casts a great Accio', he boldly wrote:  
  
Picks great friends.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Draco slipped quietly into his room, his usual arrogant stride slightly off. It was the only outward hint that he was sneaking about and trying to act normal. He shut the door behind him and locked it for good measure.  
  
Minamino was such a dutiful student. He'd finished his Defense essay back on Thursday night, like a good little boy, and had flatly refused to help anybody else. Draco knew. He'd had Crabbe try, but Minamino had brushed him off with excuses. An offer of money had gotten the cryptic "to know oneself is to be rich beyond compare", then a colder "I cannot help you" when Crabbe had pressed the point.  
  
Obviously, the offer had been too low. Minamino was strange, one minute accepting too small a favor for his silence, the next refusing the highest bribe anyone would offer for one measly essay.  
  
So Draco had watched, and waited, and discovered that Minamino was almost always outside during the day… and that his Defense essay was tucked away under his mattress, guarded only by that Devil's Snare. That would've been enough of a ward, if they hadn't just reviewed Summoning Charms in Flitwick's class. Draco flicked his wand at Minamino's bed.  
  
"Accio Defense essay!"  
  
The scroll wriggled out from the bed, smacking into Draco's hand with a satisfying thump. The hidden vines didn't so much as stir. They probably didn't have instructions for things already in Minamino's bed… interesting. Just how complex could Minamino's wards be?  
  
It didn't matter. They hadn't been complex enough to compensate for Draco's spell, and now he had the other boy's homework. Draco smirked as he hooked a finger under the edge of the parchment - it wasn't even sealed - and unrolled it.  
  
"Bloody… what IS this?" he hissed, staring at the neat rows of completely unintelligible writing.  
  
"Japanese, Mr. Malfoy," a familiar voice replied.  
  
Draco yelped and spun, dropping the scroll. Minamino stood calmly in the center of the room, as unruffled as if he'd been there the entire time. As Minamino silently stepped forward, picking his essay back up from the floor, Draco blurted, "But I locked the door!"  
  
"So you did," Minamino answered.  
  
"So how…?" He wasn't seeing things. Malfoys didn't see things. Except Great-Uncle Cassius Malfoy, but everyone knew that was the LeFey from his mother's side.  
  
Minamino's eyes glinted. "Magic," he replied, almost teasingly. He had the scroll open once more. "I really don't see why any of you think my essay could help you with yours."  
  
"It could show us what the professor expects," Draco replied easily. He could come up with excuses just as good as Minamino's. So there.  
  
"Mmhm," Minamino didn't sound convinced. "Look, if I thought it would help you - and get the lot of you out of my hair - I'd be perfectly happy to sell my assistance. I'd do it under most circumstances anyway, and leave the lot of you to hang when it comes time to actually work your core magic. As it is, though, there aren't exactly a lot of suspects if an entire House - or year - fails spectacularly in Genkai's class."  
  
Ah ha! Minamino was afraid of Professor Genkai!  
  
"Oh, of course," Draco said, clamping down on the surge of glee at his realization. "I… well. I suppose I'll just have to turn in what I've got. Later, Minamino."  
  
"Later, Malfoy."  
  
Draco left, deliberately not hurrying away with the knowledge of Minamino's weak spot in his possession.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
When Kurama couldn't hear Malfoy's footsteps any longer, he returned the scroll to its place in his bed, though it wasn't really necessary to hide it. Even if a student knew the charm to translate written language, he hadn't done the assignment. He already knew his core magic, after all, so he'd written down a kitsune legend not known to many humans. It was mostly a veiled warning. Genkai simply could not be allowed to think she had more than a pretense of authority over Kurama.  
  
That done, Kurama crossed to the window. A netting of tough vines slid from under his sleeves, wrapping around his hands. Similar vines laced over his shoes. Now outfitted with improvised crampons to grip the rock, he climbed out the window and back up the cliff face.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
An explosion knocked Harry from his sleep. Again. He managed to not fall out of bed this time, but he was definitely not going back to sleep, as the peculiar whistles and sizzling of Weasleys' Indoor Smoke Bombs (available in fire, charms accident, and three varieties of potions accident scents; guaranteed to burn away your professor's hair) fizzled away.  
  
After a long moment filled with only the sounds of rustling cloth and Kuwabara's snores, Ron asked, "Did it work?"  
  
"No, Mr. Weasley," Genkai replied. "Though I suppose thanks are in order for waking Uremeshi for me." She chuckled. "The House Elves should be pleased. I didn't have to break the bed this time."  
  
Harry shoved his glasses on his nose, poking his head from his curtains. Genkai stood before the door, unruffled and completely intact, right down to the hair on her head. Uremeshi was the source of the rustling sound; he was already finished dressing. He caught up his shoes with one hand, tugging his socks on with the other.  
  
"Okay, what're we doing today, old hag?" he asked as they headed out the door. The movement drew Harry's attention to the sooty stain outlining a perfect circle just inside the room, around where Genkai had been standing.  
  
"I thought we'd run a few miles through the Forest, then you can swim to…" Genkai's voice faded as the pair walked amicably down the stairs and out of earshot.  
  
Harry continued staring at that circle. Had any of the smoke in the trap even managed to touch her? "Ron…"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Any ideas for silent booby-traps?"  
  
Ron didn't answer for a long moment. "Maybe we should just barricade the door next week."  
  



	14. Brews and Bruised

  
  
Hiei slowly stirred his potion eight times counterclockwise, then set the ladle aside and turned the fire down. He had three minutes and nineteen seconds in which to shred three ounces of belladonna leaves before he had to add them to the mix.  
  
Today they were making Hawkeye Serum in Potions class. The serum, when applied to the eyelids, sharpened the vision dramatically. It also turned one's eye color gold, but both effects were temporary, lasting for only a few hours at most. The potion was used by goblins, barristers, and other people who dealt with fine print too often, and by Quidditch referees; it was banned to players. And if Snape thought Hiei gave a damn about any of that, he was sorely mistaken.  
  
As Hiei set about slicing the belladonna, he felt Snape's gaze pass over him. When the sensation didn't fade, Hiei looked up, meeting those eyes with a cold, flat stare to match the professor's own. He continued cutting the leaves without watching, trusting his skill with blades to keep the slices the same width and his fingers intact.  
  
"Eyes on your knife, Jaganshi," Snape ordered.  
  
Hiei paused, instead, not flinching away from Snape's guarded stare. A couple of moments passed, then Snape's eyes flicked from Hiei to Neville. Hiei returned to his work.  
  
There was none of the usual warning of a gradual build-up of heat and energy. Hiei realized only an instant ahead of time what was going to happen before Neville dumped five ounces of belladonna in, two minutes too early.  
  
Neville's potion blasted from his cauldron.  
  
Hiei had barely had time to close his eyes, much less get his hand up before his face or turn away, and the potion splashed liberally over him, covering the right side of his body from crown to shoulder. Still mostly liquid, it soaked quickly into his headband and robes, and Hiei cursed as the faint, warded view from his Jagan went blank.  
  
He straightened up from his instinctive flinch, into the resigned silence (this sort of thing must happen often. A tiny portion of Hiei's mind noted - never stand near Longbottom in Potions again), and opened his normal eyes.  
  
Out of the corner of his left eye, he saw Kurama wiping potion from his own face with a handkerchief. Out of his right, Hiei saw… nothing.  
  
"Congratulations, Longbottom," Snape sneered. "You went all of two weeks before blowing up the classroom. Your Housemates should be pleased at your progress," he added sarcastically. "Ten points from Gryffindor."  
  
Neville whimpered.  
  
"Sir?" It was Kurama. Hiei turned to see the fox staring at Snape, his face visibly pale. The reason for this was obvious; Kurama's right eye was pure black, no white or green visible at all. "I seem to have a slight problem… I can't see. From my right eye, that is, sir." He offered a rather sickly smile.  
  
"Of course you can't see, Minamino," Snape muttered. "You have Longbottom to thank for that. Mismade Hawkeye Serum causes temporary blindness."  
  
That explained Hiei's right eye and his Jagan. The potion had soaked through his headband. Hiei snatched the handkerchief from Kurama's hand and wiped what potion was left from his face. The last thing he wanted was to get this stuff on his left eye as well.  
  
"I see…" Kurama murmured. "Or not, as the case may be. Thank you, sir." His composure seemed to waver - possibly an act to fit Kurama's "teenager" guise, Hiei couldn't tell - as Kurama added, "It is temporary, you said?"  
  
"Yes, Minamino," Snape repeated irritably. "The effects last no longer than properly made Hawkeye… if Longbottom hasn't so utterly botched the potion that it would take a potions master to simply replicate the mistake."  
  
Neville wilted under the chilly, half-blind looks Hiei and Kurama gave him.  
  
****  
  
Genkai had brought them back through the blackboard door, but the complicated symbol for the knob must've been different this time, for the room had radically changed. The stone remained harshly unadorned, but the door had let them out directly onto the floor of the pit. The two inner terraces had vanished, and the entire room had expanded to something considerably closer to a hundred feet across. A second door, this one made of reinforced steel, stood across the arena from the entrance.  
  
Somehow, Harry didn't think Genkai was going to lecture today. He was right.  
  
"Toss your bags on the ledge," she said. They did so. "Today I will be testing each of you privately for core magic. When I call your name, you will leave this room by that door." She gestured towards the steel door.  
  
"While I am running the test, the rest of you will be doing a drill. Count off by fives."  
  
Harry noticed that all of the non-Muggleborn students looked vaguely confused, as Genkai pointed at each of them to direct the count. Then that finger was aimed at him.  
  
"One," he said. She moved on to Hermione.  
  
"Two." Hermione glanced at him, and whispered, "Sorry, Harry."  
  
Shortly, every student had a number, and Genkai directed them to different parts of the room. Harry found himself face-to-face with Malfoy. He cursed under his breath.  
  
"Tough luck, Potter," Malfoy sneered.  
  
"You have no idea," Harry grumbled.  
  
"Rules of the drill,"Genkai called out, redirecting everyone's attention from their enemies (every group was mixed Slytherin/Gryffindor). "You may not cast anything that does real damage. You may not use core magic. You may not hex your teammates. Every teammate still hexed at the end of class costs your House ten points… this means that if the only unhexed member of a team at the end of class is a Slytherin, Slytherin loses forty points."  
  
"What?!" Malfoy yelped, the rest of the wizardborn students echoing him.  
  
Genkai smirked at them. "You have five minutes to figure out how to work together. Then we begin." Protests broke out over the class. "SILENCE!" Her shout, accompanied by a blast of power, tumbled a number of students to the floor. "Four minutes and forty-five seconds. The clock is ticking, ladies and gentlemen."  
  
Malfoy sneered, and turned to look down his nose at Harry. "I'm not working with you."  
  
"Me either."  
  
One of the Slytherin girls in their group just glared at the pair of them. "Fine. I'll hex you both silent and take the points hit. It'll be worth it to avoid listening to you two carry on as usual."  
  
"Greengrass--" Malfoy began, just as the other girl, Jayanti Singh, and Dean nodded grimly.  
  
"Probably cost us fewer points anyway," Singh shrugged.  
  
Harry looked at Dean for support, but the other boy just looked a bit sheepish as he said, "Never thought I'd agree with a Slytherin, Harry, but they've got a point… and Gryffindors are brave, not suicidal. What with everyone else gunning for us and all…" he trailed off under Harry's incredulous look. "Fine. I dare you two to not curse each other for the next two hours."  
  
"You've got to be kidding," Daphne Greengrass burst out. "How old are you, twelve?"  
  
"Do it, or we petrify you both, dump you in the corner, and take our chances," Singh snapped, eyes on her watch. "Thirty seconds."  
  
"I'll get you for this, Singh," Malfoy growled.  
  
"Big whoop. Twenty seconds."  
  
A few more tense seconds passed with neither Harry nor Malfoy backing down, then Malfoy hissed through his teeth. "I hate you," he snarled.  
  
Harry relaxed slightly, recognizing that Malfoy had given in to the ultimatim. "I know."  
  
****  
  
Kurama faced his team - one Slytherin who wasn't being openly hostile, and three Gryffindors who were - with a slightly rueful smile. "Hm, we seem to be at a bit of a disadvantage," he murmured.  
  
"That much is obvious," Theodore Nott sneered. "We're stuck with Longbottom."  
  
"That's not what I meant," Kurama said absently, eyes flicking towards the other teams. "I meant that I don't know very many spells yet. Without being allowed core magic... well. That affects most of the other teams, too. The thing I'm most worried about is that." He tipped his head towards Harry's group. "Potter and Malfoy have the only team without any of us transfer students, and they're both rather powerful. If they manage to come to some sort of truce…"  
  
"You're talking like we've agreed to work with you," Seamus Finnegan said flatly.  
  
"Why wouldn't you?" Kurama asked blankly.  
  
"You're Slytherin," Lavender Brown huffed.  
  
"So?" Youko had never understood the way so many humans gave their loyalty to organizations or distant figureheads, rather than keeping it strictly for themselves and the occasional ally.  
  
"We don't trust you."  
  
Kurama smiled. "You don't have to."  
  
Brown blinked. "Oh."  
  
"So, if I may continue-? Every team has the same problems, except Potter and Malfoy's. We're all divided down House lines," and that was so oddly human, it was fortunate that the Gryffindors had pointed it out, "We each have one teammember - namely, us four who transferred - who knows very few spells outside of core magic, and the others have very little experience in dodging attacks. Potter and Malfoy's team is slightly different, since all the teammembers have five years of spells to draw on, but the Potter/Malfoy rivalry is worse than any other in the school and will hopefully hamper them more."  
  
"We could've figured that much out on our own, Minamino," Finnegan pointed out.  
  
"I'm just putting it into words," Kurama said. "Now, fair warning, Genkai didn't forbid physical fighting. Kuwabara's slow enough that you'll see him coming, and he won't hit girls. Yuusuke won't either, as far as I know, but he'll certainly check, Miss Brown. He's done it before." The girl squeaked in affront. "Hiei doesn't care about gender, so I'll try to stay in his way."  
  
"Nice to know how quickly you'll sell out your friends," Nott sneered.  
  
"I don't like being hexed," Kurama said coolly. "And this exercise seems to have been designed to get around house rivalries. Perhaps Genkai wants us to know what it is like to have to fight our friends?"  
  
"TIME! START HEXING!" All the students turned their heads at Genkai's shout, then looked a bit nervously at each other.  
  
"Hey! Shrimp!" Kuwabara yelled cheerfully into the hesitant silence. "Locomotor Motus!" Hiei shot to the side, and Parvati Patil shrieked and fell, her legs kicking uncontrollably under the effects of the jinx.  
  
"What was that?" Finnigan demanded, even as he began the Finite Incantatum gesture with his wand.  
  
"The idiot said 'motus' instead of 'mortis'," Nott snarled. "And don't Finite the spell, she's not in our group."  
  
"Brown, Lavender, to the door!" Genkai called out, as the class degenerated into pandemonium.  
  
"Guess that's my cue," Brown murmured.  
  
"Good luck," Longbottom said, just before Kurama yanked him down out of the path of a spell.  
  
****  
  
"Malfoy, Draco!"  
  
Finally, Draco thought, pulling away from the mayhem in the classroom with a sigh of relief. He was not enjoying this exercise, despite the fact that he was pretty much allowed to fire at Gryffindors at will. They were firing back, dammit! And all this dodging and tripping (over clumsy Gryffindor idiots who would remain nameless, of course, never over his own feet and robes) was undignified. Besides, he'd been dying to get away from working with Potter.  
  
He pulled the steel door closed behind him, and took in his surroundings. This space was similar to the large room, in that it was round, windowless, and empty, but it was considerably smaller - some ten feet across - and the ceiling wasn't domed. It was lit by a few torches in brackets on the walls, leaving the room dim and warm. Professor Genkai stood off to one side with a clipboard, scratching notes.  
  
"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy, and I'll be with you in a moment," Genkai said, gesturing towards the center of the room with her quill pen.  
  
Draco looked at the spot. "On the floor?" he asked.  
  
She flicked an impatient glance at him. "Do you see anyplace else to sit?"  
  
"Um, no…"  
  
"Then, yes, on the floor." When he'd settled himself semi-comfortably on the cold stone, she put her clipboard down and stepped more fully into the light. "I will be, for lack of a better term, pulling the core magic out of you just a bit, so we can see what it is. I can do this one of two ways." She lifted a finger. "One, from in front. It will take longer, but you'll be able to keep an eye on what I'm doing the entire time. Or, two," she lifted a second finger, "I can do this from behind. It's easier the second way, not to mention quicker. Choose."  
  
"Front." He was not letting anyone as strong (and crazy, and violent) as Genkai cast a spell on him without him at least being able to see what it was.  
  
"As you like." Genkai lifted her hand, holding it before his forehead. It started to glow with a faintly blue light, pulling a breeze to whirl around them. "This shouldn't hurt a bit," she added as an afterthought.  
  
Shouldn't?!  
  
****  
  
"Potter, Harry!"  
  
Harry ducked a hex, rolled, and skittered to the wall. It was almost too bad his name had been called… this was sort of fun. Once you got over the whole "everybody's shooting at you" part and the shock of having a Slytherin cast Finite Incantatum on you, and really got into it, the adrenaline rush was rather nice. It was sort of like chasing the Snitch, with Bludgers on your tail, only longer-lasting and with considerably more footwork.  
  
He let the door fall shut behind him with a dull clang. The heavy steel cut off the noise from the hexing melee, and he suddenly realized just how loud it had been in there. The hush in this space, added to the dim, reddish torchlight, made him all too aware of the sweat he'd worked up out in the class, and his breathing was heavy, harshly rasping through the quiet.  
  
"Have a seat," Genkai said, gesturing at the stone floor.  
  
A bit nervously, Harry knelt, drawing his legs beneath him as he tried to catch his breath. Genkai raised an eyebrow at him. "Professor…?" he asked, a bit confused.  
  
She shook her head. "Not important. Most everybody else sat tailor-style, that's all," she added.  
  
"Oh. Should I--?"  
  
"No. You're fine. Now, there's two ways we can go about the testing. One, from behind, which is quicker and easier on both of us. Two, from in front, which would let you keep your eyes on me the whole time."  
  
Harry wasn't sure he liked either option. "What exactly will you be doing?"  
  
"I'll be taking some of my magic, and, for lack of a better term, pushing yours a bit past the surface so we can see what it is. It won't require any of your power and it shouldn't hurt."  
  
"Is that what you told Uremeshi about his training?" The question had popped out of nowhere.  
  
Genkai smirked faintly. "No. I told him it would be the harshest pummeling he'd ever gotten in his life."  
  
"Oh." Harry hadn't quite expected such an honest response. "Well then... front, please." Not that Harry didn't trust her, but, well... he didn't trust her. Not with the history of DADA teachers he'd had.  
  
Genkai took a step closer and raised her hand, palm towards his face, fingertips almost brushing his scar. Harry's eyes crossed as he automatically tried to focus on her hand, before he refocused on her face. A blue haze, nothing like any spell he'd ever seen, began to glow around her hand, and an oddly electronic ringing built up in Harry's ears, the pitch and volume rising as the light intensified. His skin felt like it was tightening to match the growing sound. Was this the "pushing slightly past the surface" the professor meant? It felt like it… but it wasn't comfortable, it wasn't right, it was going to hurt and was that the faintest hint of green in the blue-white brightness it was hurting hurting hurting NO--!  
  
The world blasted into pure white.  
  
****  
  
In the main classroom, Yuusuke froze mid-dodge, head whipping towards the steel door. A hex slammed into the side of his head and sent him sprawling.  
  
Hiei and Kurama misstepped in their competition to block the other's path, and smacked into each other. Their eyes flicked towards the door as well.  
  
Kuwabara tripped, knocking Hermione to the ground. Her hex went flying into the wall, twenty feet above their heads. The stone broke out in red and gold blinking polka dots.  
  
And Draco Malfoy shivered with an unexpected chill.  
  
****  
  
It took Harry several long moments to realize he was awake. Cold stone pressed against his cheek, and there was a faint sizzling sound skittering about the small room. When he opened his eyes, the world was split into two differently-focused views, and he realized his glasses had been knocked askew. Slowly, he lifted his head, automatically tugging his glasses back in place.  
  
"Professor…?" he managed.  
  
A flash of flickering light in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Harry pushed himself upright, turning his head.  
  
"Professor!"  
  
The tiny woman was crumpled in a heap at the base of the wall, several feet behind him. Harry nearly fell over the hem of his robes as he scuttled over to her, shaking her gently by the shoulder. The move brought a reactive grunt, and Genkai's hand twitched. Harry sat back with relief as she pulled the arm in, lifting her own hand to the back of her head.  
  
"Ow…" she muttered, starting to push herself up with her other hand. Her hair tumbled out of her face, and Harry reared back in shock. The professor was young--! Just like her Chocolate Frog card!  
  
"That was unexpected," Genkai grumbled, her voice higher and smooth, with no trace of the rasp that must have been brought on by a lifetime of harsh training.  
  
"Professor…?"  
  
Genkai's eyes opened and focused on Harry. "What are you looking at, Potter?" she asked.  
  
"You're… well… I mean…"  
  
"Suffering from the aftereffects of testing core magic that doesn't want to be tested?" she asked dryly. "I noticed."  
  
"Doesn't… huh?"  
  
Genkai finally brought her hand out from behind her head, traces of red on the tips. Harry froze, recognizing blood. She must've hit her head against the wall. Genkai's face twisted with wry amusement, and perhaps a touch of exasperation.  
  
"You have some barriers that most people need training to develop. I wasn't expecting that." She took a handkerchief from her pocket and began wiping her fingers clean, then caught the look on Harry's face. "Don't be so upset, Potter. It'll be fine in a few minutes."  
  
"But-"  
  
"I said I'll be fine. I can heal it easily." She got to her feet, gesturing for Harry to stand as she replaced the handkerchief in her pocket. "Now, as for your magic, we're going to have to go about this the long way." She turned away, walking over to where she'd left her clipboard.  
  
"The long way?"  
  
"There are three ways to go about finding core magic," Genkai elaborated, as she picked up her clipboard and began writing on it. "One, the short way, which requires a trained professional - there are five of those in the world, and I'm one of them. Two, the hard way, which requires a deadly situation." She glanced at Harry sternly. "We won't be trying that."  
  
Harry quickly shook his head. No, he didn't want another one of those!  
  
"And three, the long way. I'll have to read your homework and get back to you on that." She pointed towards the door with her quill. "Dismissed."  
  
****  
  
After class, the Tantei headed one by one to Genkai's suite. Hiei arrived last, just in case the humans had been unable to pronouce the password correctly and were stuck outside the tapestry. He let Keiko in with some annoyance - she wasn't really needed for this meeting - and took up a spot on the windowsill.  
  
Genkai pushed several stacks of papers across the table. "I'd like you to take a look at these," she said simply. "Pick out the ones you think would benefit from working with you."  
  
Hiei didn't even glance at Genkai in annoyance at her order. It was said mostly for the benefit of the humans, who weren't familiar with the customs and obligations of Makai, anyway. For all that you were supposed to be heartless, ruthless, and only interested in your own power and pleasures… if you found someone who needed training in your field, or someone who caught your interest, someone who wasn't an opponent… you taught them. Humans weren't the only ones who could practice hypocrisy.  
  
Kurama took two of the piles, handed one to Hiei, and leaned against the wall to begin reading. Hiei skimmed them quickly, finding they were the notes on Genkai's testing that day (as he'd been expecting), then flicked back to the top page to examine them more closely.  
  
For several minutes, the only sounds in the room came from rustling papers and the occasional grunt of some emotion - confusion, surprise, and wariness, for the most part.  
  
"You're stuck with Longbottom," Hiei said abruptly. "Don't let him blow you up."  
  
"Hm?" Everyone glanced up, but it was Kurama who flipped further ahead in his packet to check. "Oh no…" the redhead murmured.  
  
"Is this bad, Kurama?" Yukina asked gently. "I'd think you'd be happy to find someone with plant magic like yours…"  
  
Yuusuke answered before Kurama could. "Longbottom's the one whose potion blew up today before lunch. That potion that had Hiei and Kurama half-blind for three hours?"  
  
"Oh."  
  
"This does explain some things, though…" Kurama murmured. "It's almost impossible to make a potion right when your power is changing the potency of half the ingredients."  
  
"And he does seem to do well in the Herbology class we share," Yukina offered quietly.  
  
"Yeah!" Botan agreed. "He's actually pretty good at Herbology!"  
  
Kurama traced a finger along the page. "Odd… he should have plants trying to climb all over him in class, if he's that uncontrolled… unless… How does Professor Sprout treat him?"  
  
"Nicely," Hiei summarized.  
  
"Yup. So, who else should we be looking at here?" Yuusuke asked. "And hurry up. We'll be late to dinner."  
  
"Bulstrode," Hiei said, deftly separating papers from his pile. "Crabbe, Goyle."  
  
"Those are Yuusuke's, right?" Botan asked.  
  
"Why mine?" Yuusuke asked, annoyed.  
  
"Gauntlet-class. Simple enhancement of their physical strength," Kurama explained.  
  
Hiei took another paper from his pile, and scowled. "Malfoy. Crystal."  
  
Yukina's gaze lowered. "That's very close to ice."  
  
Hiei scowled, but Kurama murmured, "We do need to keep a close eye on him."  Hiei's fingers clenched on the papers, even as Kurama slyly added, "You can tell him that keeping his wand in reach will interfere with his progress."  
  
"But that's--"  
  
"A reasonable precaution," Genkai said.  "Most pureblood wizards are completely helpless without a wand."  
  
... Okay then.  Okay.  Hiei could live with risking Yukina like that, then.  For a while, while the Malfoy boy was useless.  He still didn't like it one bit, and that reflected in his sharp movements as he flicked through the rest of his papers sourly. "Parkinson. Patil. Potter. Singh. White."  
  
"I'm going to work on figuring out countermeasures for Parkinson," Genkai said. "I'm no more eager than you are to have her feeding off anyone's magic."  
  
"Maybe she'll suffer magical indigestion, the way Byakko did after Kuwabara stuffed Rei Ken down his throat a dozen times," Yuusuke muttered.  
  
"That's a thought," Genkai responded.  
  
"Looks like I'm working with Miss Singh, then," Kuwabara said.  
  
Hiei glanced at that sheet. "You're barely competent with your own sword."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"White's a healer…" Keiko murmured. "Yukina, can you handle another Slytherin?" Yukina nodded. "Okay. So… why is there nothing on Patil and Potter?"  
  
"Patil's a twin," Genkai said. "Twins always have related abilities - complementary or opposing, but related - so they're always best tested together. I'll be doing that Wednesday evening. As for Potter…" She rubbed her temples wearily. "Potter has some barriers the rest of the students don't. I couldn't test his power."  
  
Kurama raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."  
  
"So what are you going to do about him?" Yuusuke asked.  
  
"That's the question, isn't it." Genkai grumbled.  
  



	15. The Benefits of Sneaking

  
  
  
Hiei let Trelawney pour water into his scrying dish, then took it back to his table and set it down. He flipped open his textbook with one hand, casually neglecting to let go of the bowl with his other hand as he flicked through the pages.  
  
Within minutes, the water was steaming.  
  
"Hiei…" Kuwabara whispered urgently. "Oi! Hiei!"  
  
"What?" Hiei snapped.  
  
Kuwabara leaned closer over the table. "Get a hold of yourself!"  
  
"What?" Hiei asked, glancing up. The instant he met Kuwabara's eyes, he set a jolt of power through his hand. The water puffed into steam all at once, bursting from the dish and nearly into Kuwabara's face. The human squawked, shoving away from the hot cloud and falling back off his seat.  
  
Trelawney fluttered over, carrying her pitcher of water. "I sense you are encountering difficulties, children," she pronounced solemnly.  
  
Hiei looked into his dry bowl, quirking an eyebrow in faked confusion. His hand, palm pressed to the side of the thick metal dish, would convince any watchers that the cloud of steam had some sort of paranormal origin. Obviously, the dish couldn't simply be hot, since Hiei was holding it.  
  
"Um… sure… seems that way, Professor," Kuwabara stammered nervously as he pulled himself back into his chair. He was staring at Hiei's bowl with a slightly wild-eyed look.  
  
Professor Trelawney tilted her head and ran her hand slowly through the space over both their heads. "Hm…" she murmured, her hand stilling over Hiei.  
  
Abruptly, she snapped her hand back, lifted the pitcher, and poured more water into Hiei's bowl. It hissed as it touched the metal, going up in steam and leaving the bowl bone-dry.  
  
"I see…" she said, as she pulled the pitcher away. She reached for the dish – Hiei quickly pulled the power back in, leaving the bowl cool enough to touch – and took it away. "Your dark dragon dislikes the water," Trelawney announced.  
  
Hiei gave the woman a level stare. She was so easily manipulated. Now if she would just—  
  
"We'll start you on mirrors early, Jaganshi," she told him kindly. "Next week. For now, you may as well go, as you will gain no insight from this lesson."  
  
\- do that. Perfect.  
  
Hiei stuffed his book in his schoolbag, threw it over his shoulder, and stalked out.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"How did he do that?" Ron whispered to Harry. "And why did we never think of it?"  
  
"I don't know, and I don't know," Harry answered. "But… maybe that core magic stuff?"  
  
"What sort of core magic could do that?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "The same kind that makes someone fireproof?" And made them set their broomsticks on fire… wait. Fire.  
  
"But Trelawney isn't fireproof," Ron said. "I don't think. Though she sits up here with all this smoke all the time, and she didn't burn her hand on the dish…"  
  
"I meant Hiei. But you're right about the bowl…" Maybe it wasn't fire, after all.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
In the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom, Hiei easily sketched the kanji for "observe" on the blackboard doorknob of Genkai's door, and entered a cubicle high in the domed ceiling of the main arena room. This was what he'd gotten out of Divination to see: Yukina's Defense class running the hexing drill. He didn't trust these brats – hell, he hadn't even met most of them. Who knew what weird hex they'd throw at his sister?  
  
Besides, he had to be there in case things got ugly. He'd managed to dodge the hexes on Monday, and therefore no one had cast Finite Incantatum on him, but Yukina wasn't nearly as quick as him. If she glanced up at the wrong moment after Finite, before she'd managed to secretly recast their eye charm, everyone would see her "demonic" red eyes. Botan and Keiko wouldn't be able to protect her from the fallout of that.  
  
This session was considerably better than theirs had been, he noticed after a few minutes. Whereas the Gryffindor/Slytherin drill had been little better than a free-for-all, this class had divided into recognizable, coherent teams. The tactics were uninspired – the teams were all sticking together, and at least one member of each team was magically shielding the group (or at least attempting to) – but they all had tactics.  
  
It was beautifully ironic that the people you expected to be better in a fight – the brave Gryffindors and the cunning Slytherins – were actually worse than the so-called bookworms and the wimps. Hiei made a mental note to tell Kurama. The fox would appreciate the humor… and the lesson.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry idly kicked his feet in the air as he lay on his stomach on his bed, his History of Magic textbook open before him. He'd long since quit actually trying to read the exceedingly dull text, and had taken to doodling (badly) in the margins.  
  
Somehow, random doodles of brooms and animals had morphed into a full-blown Quidditch game, with Pigwidgeon doubling as the Snitch. The opposing team, made up of snakes, was getting pummeled 340-0 (due to their lack of arms to throw the Quaffle or hold Bludger bats).  
  
"Hey, Harry...?"  
  
"Hm?" Harry glanced up and turned his head towards Ron. The redhead lay on his stomach on his own bed, and was fiddling with something small in his hands. Harry couldn't see what it was.  
  
"This core magic stuff. Do you... um... I don't know how to ask this. Is yours... weird?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry answered honestly. "Professor Genkai couldn't test it. Why?"  
  
Ron was silent for a couple of seconds, then he suddenly tossed the object he'd been toying with at Harry. Harry caught it easily with a Seeker's reflexes. It was a chesspiece -- the white queen.  
  
"What's this?" Harry asked.  
  
"That's what popped up when Genkai tested me," Ron answered. Harry blinked, surprised. Ron continued, "What sort of core magic is that? I mean, what good is it?"  
  
"I don't know..." Harry said slowly. "In fact... what is it?" Had Ron created this or something?  
  
"Dunno." Ron shrugged. "I sort of got this image, and Genkai told me to carry a chesspiece around for the week, but... I dunno. It sounds stupid."  
  
Harry had to agree. It did sound weird. "Well...er, you chose a good piece," he offered. "Queen's the most versatile, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Ron said, leaning over and taking it back. Then he blinked. "Are you running a fever or something?"  
  
"No... I feel fine."  
  
"Huh. I thought it felt warmer for a second there..." Ron eyed the queen for a moment longer, then shook his head and shoved the piece back in his pocket. "Must've just been my imagination."  
  
"Must have."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hiei had slipped into the observation cubicle once more directly after dinner. With no one in the arena, the one-way window was dark, glazed over so Hiei couldn't see into the space. This was a protective measure; an empty shapeshifting room fell into a randomized, amorphous state. The window Hiei was at could, at any given moment, be in the floor, walls, ceiling, or hovering anywhere in the room. The view from it would look like somebody had splinched a kaleidoscope with a lava lamp, then reflected the results in a funhouse mirror.  
  
Abruptly, the window cleared, showing the ten-meter-wide arena from the day Kurama had demonstrated core magic. Hiei set aside his homework as the door opened and Genkai ushered in the Patil twins. She glanced up at the window and their eyes met, though Hiei knew there was a concealing charm hiding him. She quirked an eyebrow upwards in acknowledgement of his presence, though, and lead the Patil girls to the arena floor.  
  
It would seem that she'd decided to do the younger pair first. Hiei watched as the two sat down and Genkai spoke to them quietly. They glanced at each other, then replied, and Genkai moved around to stand behind them. She lifted both hands, one between the shoulder blades of each twin, and raised her ki.  
  
There must be strong wards up around the room. Hiei couldn't feel a thing as a pale blue haze formed around Genkai's hands, thin tendrils looping about the girls' shoulders and seeping into them. Their hair and clothes began to flutter in a whirling breeze. Leaning closer, curious, Hiei saw the two slowly lift their arms, cupping their hands before them. Several wisps of white smoke streamed from their hands, coalescing into a globe the size of a basketball before each girl's face.  
  
A moment passed, then the white spheres cleared, showing two different images. In one, Ron Weasley sat on his bed, staring pensively at something small in his hand. In the other, two identical little redheaded boys, perhaps seven years old, were on a toboggan, teetering at the top of a staircase... which shifted to a spiral just as the two leaned forward and the sled shot down.  
  
The blue haze faded, the globes winking out a second later, and Genkai stepped back, glancing up at Hiei's window.  
  
Hiei smirked. The two little boys in one globe were recognizably Fred and George, a decade ago. So, if the other girl's globe had been showing Ron as he was currently... they were showing present and past events? That could be a useful talent. Or a dangerous one. Hiei's smirk fell away. If the past-globe -- which belonged to the Gryffindor twin, Hiei noticed, as she stood and her House crest became visible -- ever showed Hiei without his headband, or in his out-of-control green form, or if they saw Youko, or any of the demon killings he and the other Tantei had been responsible for... there was so much that they couldn't let anyone know about.  
  
He would have to either take the Patils himself, or make sure their tutor knew how to focus their training away from looking into the Tantei's activities. Considering Kuwabara was the only other choice for a trainer... Dammit!  
  
As the girls left, looking a bit dazed, the Weasley twins bounced into the room. One walked right up to Genkai, waving cheerfully before clapping the old woman jovially on the shoulder. The other followed close behind, smiling and saying something charming, judging by his expression.  
  
Genkai almost smiled, but brushed the first's hand away with a curt order. The boys sat, then offered identical innocent expressions when Genkai pulled a strip of paper off her shoulder -- where the first boy's hand had left it -- and raised an eyebrow at them.  
  
A moment later, she'd explained the procedure, and moved around behind them. Repeating her actions from just a few moments before with the Patil twins, she drew the boys' core magic to the surface.  
  
A tangle of magic strands slowly became visible, eminating from both twins. They flowed and shifted, making web-like patterns through the room. One strand connected to the strip of paper. Several more slipped in and out of the boys' robes, threading through pockets. The rest faded out as they approached the walls.  
  
Hiei blinked. What the hell was this? Yanking his headband off, he used the Jagan to peer more closely at the strands of power. Without the ward, he could now see that the lines didn't fade out within the arena, but instead stretched faintly through the walls. Hair-thin ones flickered in and out of existence around the pair, squirming and pushing at Genkai and her power insistently. They kept slipping loose, though, unable to get a grip on her reiki.  
  
As Hiei watched, completely bewildered, he realized several of the thickest strands were not so much disappearing into the wall as moving along it. One was stretched in his direction, creeping closer to the observation cubicle. Hiei switched his attention to that strand, and with some careful adjustment, looked through the floor and the magical weave of the building. Looking down it, he discovered, to his surprise, that it ended at the janitor, Filch.  
  
As quickly as he realized that, he remembered the strands of magical intent that he'd caught twice, his first night at the school. The first had tried to get him to leave the moving staircases before he saw the twins on their way to do mischief. The second had tried to keep him there after he'd seen them.  
  
... What was this strand manipulating Filch to do? And, more importantly, what were all the other strands doing? Were any of them attached to his teammates, compromising them? What would Hiei be doing right now if he hadn't noticed those first attempts to ensnare him?  
  
Genkai released the twins, stepping back with the most worried, serious expression Hiei had ever seen on the old woman. Fred and George turned, eager curiosity glowing in their eyes... until they caught sight of Genkai's face. Their own faces instantly mirrored the worry, as one started to ask something. The other finished the sentence, reaching out towards her. She waved them off, then visibly composed herself and began to speak.  
  
Hm... Hiei couldn't hear a thing in here. Hurriedly rewrapping the cloth over his third eye, he left the cubicle and sketched a different character on the blackboard doorknob. He eased the door open just enough to slip through, closed it with a tiny snick, and darted into the air. There were a few shadowed spots in the ceiling dome, one of which offered a ledge to brace himself on, where the illusion hiding the observation window was.  
  
The twins, focused on Genkai, hadn't noticed him, and Hiei allowed himself a mental sigh of relief.  
  
"-- not done you any favors by testing you," Genkai was saying, her voice heavy. "And I have serious doubts about telling you."  
  
"Our core magic--"  
  
"-- is that scary?" They sounded incredulous. Hiei knew if he hadn't seen it with his own three eyes, he would never have believed the cheerful, popular pranksters had anything sinister to hide. But then, most people would say the same about Kurama...  
  
Genkai's gaze went flat. "Yes."  
  
They winced. "I don't think we want to know," Fred said.  
  
"Except that we can't do anything to avoid using it by accident if we don't know," George added more quietly.  
  
"Or to avoid being used and manipulated."  
  
Genkai raised an eyebrow, staring into their unusually serious faces for a long, silent moment. "You are Rogue-class, also known as the ‘luck’ class, low-level manipulators of space, time, and circumstance."  
  
"So we’re lucky? That doesn't sound like so much," Fred commented.  
  
“Oh, it doesn’t?” Genkai asked sharply. “You've never killed or seriously injured anyone, you hardly ever get caught, and you're even very well liked despite your reputation,” Genkai said. “But just think if you didn't have the scruples you have. You could kill or wound whoever you wanted, you'd never get caught, and you'd still be well liked, despite the fact you were doing wrong,” Genkai said. “Imagine a Death Eater with this power.” They paled. “An Auror could fire Avada Kedavra point-blank, and on ‘-vra’ would trip over his own shoelace and hit the wrong target. Except the Auror would never do that, because the Death Eater would never fall under suspiscion.”  
  
George, swallowing, weakly murmured, “I think we’ve got the point. Professor.”  
  
She stared narrowly at them for a second longer. “Dismissed.”  
  
They stood, nodded a farewell at her, then turned and slowly walked from the room. Fred caught his twin’s hand and squeezed it. “They’ll expect our usual high spirits,” he said quietly.  
  
“What high spirits?” George muttered, before shaking his head as if to clear it. “Right you are, Gred.”  
  
“Damn right ‘right I am’. I’m always right!”  
  
“Except when you’re arguing with me – then you’re always wrong!” The door shut behind the falsely cheerful pair, and Hiei darted to the floor.  
  
“What do you think, Hiei?” Genkai asked quietly, fishing a cigarette from her pocket.  
  
“I think… I’ll be keeping an eye on them.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Genkai gestured Harry into the chair before her desk, setting aside her teacup and taking up a couple sheets of paper.  
  
"Well, Potter. I read your essay -- not very academically inclined, are you?"  
  
"Um..." Well, he was no Hermione, but he wasn't that bad, was he?  
  
She gestured with the paper. "You seem to have some rather ridiculous notions of core magic. Having useful friends is not a core magic. Accio is not a core magic, no matter how good you are with the charm. I had to go to Dumbledore for more information, but I'll have to ask you for some things in your own words.  
  
"First, though, I may as well inform you of what I do have to go on.  
  
"You're a natural flyer. House Seeker, correct?" Harry nodded shortly. "That may be core magic, it may not... You'll have a couple of sessions with Botan to see which. If it is core magic, there's a small -- very small -- possibility you could manifest a broom.  
  
"I also checked that sword of yours, the one you killed the Basilisk with. There are no charms on it, so you probably have some magic with swordsmanship, by virtue of the fact that you didn't cut your own fool head off. You'll be working with Hiei and Kuwabara on that."  
  
"Your Parseltongue is an acquired core magic, but you still should practice it. I'll see what I can do about getting a snake for you to talk to, but you might have to make do with a painting.  
  
"Now..." she leaned back and folded her hands over her stomach, "I would like to know what magical accidents you can recall having as a child, and then your perspective on the last four years here at Hogwarts."  
  
Harry bit his lip. "You aren't recording this, are you?" he asked warily.  
  
"Of course not, Potter. Whatever you say stays in this room and our two heads. No Pensieves, no news articles, no gossip."  
  
"Well... I guess." That was perhaps the best promise he could get. "I think the first accident I remember was when Aunt Petunia cut most of my hair short..."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama flicked easily through a sheaf of papers, eyes needing bare seconds to glean the pertinent information from Genkai's notes. The woman had a helpful habit of summarizing her observations at the top of the page, and scribbling the details over the remaining space.  
  
Reshuffling the pages into an order that would probably only make sense to him, he put the few students that he might consider tutoring at the top. There weren't many; Quest-class skills like Kurama's, when a person could put their power into an object, multiply it by the object’s own power, and manipulate it at will, were rare. It was a shock to have found any in the school, much less a potential Plant Master. But Kurama could take some of the burden away from Hiei and Kuwabara, helping to train the students who created weapons of any sort. Oddly, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had more of those students than the Gryffindors and Slytherins, but all of them manifested blunt weapons - staffs and clubs - whereas the latter Houses only created weapons with blades.  
  
He said as much aloud.  
  
"You're right," Yuusuke said, surprised. "Weird. But what's with all these funny-named classes? I thought class was about strength... S-class, A-class, B-class, and all that."  
  
"It's a translation problem, in part," Kurama said. "Makai Common has two words that equate to 'class' in Japanese."  
  
Genkai spoke up. "The classes you're familiar with are power levels, and are labeled with letters. S, A, B, C, and on down, getting weaker until they start going into numbers around E-class. These classes, with actual words as labels, refer to different types of core magic."  
  
There was a pregnant pause. Finally, Yuusuke said, "So? What are they?"  
  
Genkai plucked Yuusuke's papers from his hands and spread them out on the table, rearranging them into several piles. She pointed at a single sheet in its own pile. "Here's one of your classes, Yuusuke. Rogue-class, with the Weasley twins: luck and invention magics, all but untrainable because the powers are used unconsciously from birth... or in your case, from death. It's really a subtle warping of spacetime, putting the user in the exact right spot at the right time, or it can put objects in exactly the right spot at the right time -- I suspect the twins use both, but they're so closely intertwined there's no point in figuring out who uses which."  
  
Her finger landed on another paper, this one at the top of one of the thicker stacks. "This is your main class, Gauntlet. Self-enhancement and reinforcement. It's borderline with Knight -- Kuwabara's class, manifestation of a weapon -- in your case."  
  
"Really? Huh." Yuusuke sounded oddly interested, Kurama noticed. Perhaps because this was (sort of) about fighting, rather than academics? Yuusuke would be more curious about information he could apply immediately to real-world experiences, and his idea of 'real-world' was delinquency and fighting.  
  
Yuusuke waved a hand at the rest of the piles. "So what are all those?"  
  
“Hrm…” Genkai muttered. “Let me think… easier to do this in order. Castle-class: healing and shielding magics; Yukina, Bones, Cornfoot. Oracle, premonitions and clairvoyance; Kuwabara, Brown, the Patils. Divine, sight magic; Zabini, Li… Keiko, put the quill away, you don’t need to take notes on this.” Keiko sheepishly set her pen down, letting Genkai continue. “Siren, sound magic; Finnegan. Forest, scent and inhaled magics; Goldstein, Turpin. Ember, shapeshifters – I wish we had an animagus besides McGonagall, she’s far too busy to tutor – there are a surprising number of those, too; Boot, Greengrass, Nott. Province, remote-control powers; the Thomas boy. Quest, Kurama, Longbottom, possibly Ron Weasley. Dragon, elementals; Yukina again, Draco Malfoy—“  
  
“Perfect name,” Botan murmured, giggling.  
  
“Philosopher, converting matter to magic and back again – they had a stone here a few years ago with spells to make it a core-magic object, rather like Hiei's Jagan, only of the Philosopher class. Net-class, merging magics – that’s you, Keiko.”  
  
"Is that what I did?" Keiko asked quietly, the question rhetorical.  
  
“That’ll be fun to experiment with,” Kurama commented. Maybe he could convince her to experiment with some of his plants and the other students… or even his plants and Hiei? He didn’t have nearly enough fire-resistant plants, and there was no such thing as one made from fire… but he would have to wait until she’d had some practice and better control.  
  
“There will be no reckless experimenting,” Genkai said, echoing the strongly “Shuiichi” ending to that thought. “Where was I…? Net class, Knight class – manifestation of a weapon, the most common class, or of a pen; Granger. Gauntlet, self-enhancement, the most simpleminded class—“  
  
“Hey!” Yuusuke protested, obviously remembering that Genkai had placed him in this class minutes ago.  
  
“—Crabbe, Goyle, Toguro—“  
  
“Why the hell are you comparing me to *them*?”  
  
“Why not?” Genkai smirked. “Feast-class, power consumption; Parkinson, Byakko, Toguro again. Crucible, or ‘black’ magic; Kokuryuuha, Hopkins, MacMillan—“  
  
“I thought MacMillan’s core magic was ‘gossip’.” Keiko objected.  
  
“Spreading rumors and lies, shredding reputations, tearing down decent and indecent people alike? Mobs? Where else would you put it?”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Disseminating important information, quality control on rumors, giving false information to the enemy... Properly trained, it wouldn't be that bad,” Botan pointed out.  
  
“No power, trained and used properly, is ‘that bad’, and vice versa. For instance, so-called ‘white’ magic includes the wards that held Yukina prisoner,” Genkai responded. Hiei hissed, and she wisely finished the list. “Then Rogue-class, and last is Catchall for unique and unclassified magics.”  
  
Kurama returned to his examination of his papers. Genkai had given a rather good summary, for doing it off the top of her head.  
  
"It would have been easier to just make them look it up themselves," Hiei muttered.  
  
Kurama hid a smile. "But that would have taken more time... better to just get it out of the way now." Hiei shrugged, and Kurama let the subject drop.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
It was nearly pitch black in the Slytherin 5th year boys' dorm, with no moon to stream light from the sky or reflect it from the lake. Very little of the castle's lamplight reached this far down, past the ramparts and the cliffs and the sheer distance. A couple of lanterns shone meagerly at the docks, but for the most part, the only light in the dorm came from the stars. It wasn't really enough to see by.  
  
It was enough, though, that Draco could see his hands as he sat on the windowsill, in just his uniform shirt and a pair of thin trousers. Pale as he was, his hands looked as cold as they felt (the wind had picked up off the lake, and Draco had put out the fire along with the lamps).  
  
Bloodless. The word passed swiftly through Draco's mind and slid away, into the dark chill. His hands looked and felt bloodless, no warmth reaching them from his body. But his pulse fluttered at his wrist... if Draco imagined it wasn't blood flowing through his veins, it must be--  
  
Magic.  
  
And with that, he could almost see it, a soft, liquid light running through a complex web, though his hands (or was the intricate structure merely hand-shaped?), flowing in smooth pulses. It was liquid, it flowed, it could flow right out of the hand-shape and pool in his palms. If he just... pushed... just a little... yes. Some of the light-liquid puddled in his cupped hands, but it didn't sit still like water. It was lumping... no, beading, like water droplets on glass. That was okay. Let it bead. Small droplets froze quicker than large ones, and that was the point here; he couldn't keep it if it wasn't solid, and his hands were so cold it could happen... it *should* happen...  
  
The door slammed against the wall, and Draco came to himself with a jolt.  
  
"Eh? Who left the lights off?" It was Blaise. "Lu--"  
  
"Leave it," Draco rasped.  
  
"Draco?" A footstep, as Blaise tried to navigate the room.  
  
"Go away, Blaise. I'm almost done."  
  
A moment of silence, then, "I never saw you. If you don't want anyone else to, you'd better be quick. They won't be more than a couple more minutes."  
  
Good. "Right. Out."  
  
The door closed, considerably more quietly, and Draco carefully poured the tiny quartz crystals he'd made into a handkerchief, tied it securely closed, and slipped it into his pocket. He took up his wand.  
  
"Lumos," he murmured, shutting his eyes as the lights flared too brightly. Blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted, he slipped back into the rest of his school uniform, laced up his shoes, and left the room. He could sneak into the bathroom, tidy up, and return just in time to be seen returning. Blaise would be suspicious if he didn't do that, since he would if he'd been snooping or setting a prank-- making sure that everyone knew that he'd gotten away with it. Really, it wasn't taking that much effort to conceal that he'd been practicing core magic in his very own dorm room.  
  



	16. Shubun no Hi

  
  
  
Harry rolled out of bed somewhat late on Saturday morning. Breakfast was always later on Saturdays, and most of the students took advantage of the extra time. He'd already bathed and dressed, and was lacing his shoes before he noticed Neville approaching Hiei's bed, a small frown on his face. That was when Harry realized the curtains on Hiei's bed were closed.  
  
That was odd. The transfer student was always up and gone by 7 am, leaving his bedcurtains drawn back and bed empty. It was getting close to 8 now.  
  
"Jaganshi?" Neville asked nervously. "... Hiei? Are you okay?" Silence, and Neville reached out to edge a curtain aside. "OW!"  
  
Harry bolted upright as Neville jerked his hand away from the curtains, the wards on the bedposts flaring into visibility. "Neville?"  
  
"'M okay!" Neville shook his hand out, hissing slightly. "It's hot!"  
  
Seamus rolled his eyes. "It's a Saturday. If he wants to sleep in, his right. And I'll bet he put some sort of 'keep out' charm on his bed to keep it that way."  
  
Harry quickly remembered that first night, when he'd caught Hiei drawing on the bedpost. He'd called them 'wards' and 'protection spells'... a 'keep out' charm was pretty obvious, in hindsight.  
  
The curtain flicked aside, and Hiei poked his head out, bleary-eyed. "Go 'way." The curtain snapped shut again.  
  
"But breakfast..." Neville protested weakly.  
  
"Not hungry," came from behind the curtain.  
  
"Come on, you heard the guy," Seamus said. "If he wants to be weirder than usual, at least we'll get to eat our breakfast without any Slytherins hanging around."  
  
Neville gave in at that, and the boys hurried down to breakfast.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Once he'd heard the door slam in their wake, Hiei flopped back onto his mattress. It's starting oddly early this year, he thought as he dozed off again.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Pigwidgeon careened into Ron's cereal bowl, splattering milk everywhere. He chirped excitedly as Ron dug him out of the bowl and freed his letter. "Yeah, yeah, cut it out -- bloody idiot bird..."  
  
"What's that?" Harry asked.  
  
"Huh?" Ron glanced up. "Oh, I wrote Bill the other day. He must be kinda busy... took him a while to reply." He unfolded the letter, glanced through it, then upended the envelope. Several pairs of earplugs fell out. "He talked to Percy, sent these and let him have a P.S. 'If you could please speak to your Defense professor,'" he said, imitating Percy's supercilious tones, "'ask her if she's been recieving her mail. The Prophet is most eager to interview her, and have been making a nuisance of themselves here at the Ministry. Doubtless they would be on school grounds if they could be.'" Ron dropped back into his normal voice. "What do I look like, an owl?"  
  
"Well, if you squint a bit and tip your head this way..." Harry said, doing so.  
  
Ron bounced a roll off his head.  
  
"What does Bill have to say?" Hermione asked, heading things off before they got out of hand.  
  
Ron, who'd just stuffed a thick slice of bacon into his mouth, passed over the letter, waving a hand in a permissive gesture. Hermione took the parchment, raising an eyebrow at Ron before turning to it. As she read, her eyes slowly lit up in fascination.  
  
Eventually, she put the letter down. "Wow..." she breathed.  
  
Harry had no clue what could spark that reaction. "Wow what?" he asked. Hermione passed him the letter in response.  
  
  
Dear Ickle Ronnikins Dear Ron, (it read)  
  
Sorry. I was just writing to the twins, and it happened before I realized it.  
  
To answer your question: I have heard of core magic, in fact, and I'm surprised your Professor is teaching any. The few people who do learn it tend to do so in small groups, or even one-on-one, after they leave Hogwarts. It's part of the curriculum for Auror training, I've heard, and Charlie and I have both had to learn some for our careers. It's been a favorite subject for debate over in Egypt and the Near East for centuries.  
  
That said, it is a subject for debate. There are several views, but they wind up in generally two schools of thought: "don't sink to their level", and "fight fire with fire". Both hinge on the point that demons use core magic. Period. In their world, the ones that don't wind up dead.  
  
You can probably guess how the arguments go once people get on the topic.  
  
Speaking of arguments, I should warn you to brace yourself for one if and when you tell Mum what you're learning. She's quite firmly in the "don't sink to their level" camp, and we had a huge row about it when I went into cursebreaking. She doesn't know about Charlie -- he, being lucky enough to discover Mum's opinion before he started his job training, has decided it's better for her nerves to keep quiet on the subject. And I have to agree with him. Regardless, it's your decision.  
  
I'll let you imagine all the big-brother nagging that should go here. I'm afraid I can't be arsed at the moment. Besides, Percy's going to add something. I'm sure he'll take care of the nagging bits.  
  
Love,  
  
Bill  
  
P.S. - Bill is allowing me to add a note. If you could speak to your Defense professor, please ask her if she's been recieving her mail. The Prophet is most eager to interview her, and have been making a nuisance of themselves here at the Ministry. Doubtless they would be on school grounds if they could be, but in deference to common courtesy (and the school's anti-trespasser wards), they have all but set up camp on Minister Fudge's doorstep. The Minister is rapidly losing patience with the school -- I shouldn't have to tell you that the situation here is delicate, considering last year.  
  
Enclosed are the earplugs you asked for. Please do not use them on school nights -- the noiseproofing charm would block your alarms. No one can afford to miss classes.  
  
Love,  
  
Percy  
  
  
"Oh," Harry said. That explained Hermione's 'wow'. He wouldn't be surprised if Hermione tried to drag them to the library after breakfast looking for essays on both sides of the debate, now.  
  
"It's fascinating!" Hermione said pointedly, taking back the letter.  
  
"Sure, 'Mione." Seeing she wasn't listening, Harry turned to Ron. "Your mum's going to kill us."  
  
Ron didn't look entirely happy. "It's not our idea."  
  
"Will that matter?" Harry asked. He wasn't quite clear on how Molly Weasley worked, but from what he'd seen, 'it wasn't our idea' wasn't a valid argument with her. At least, it wasn't when the idea was some other kid's. Maybe since learning core magic was official policy, though...  
  
"Probably not," Ron answered, stopping that train of thought before it could fully form in Harry's mind. "Which is why I'm not going to tell her."  
  
"All right," Harry agreed slowly. "She's your mum. If you want it that way, I'll keep it quiet. Better warn the twins and Ginny, though."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
After breakfast, Kurama waited in a nook near Gryffindor Tower, eyes intent on a portrait across the hall and a few meters further along it. A heavy woman in a pink dress was having tea, Western-style, with a friend.  
  
"I swear upon my frame," the second woman said, placing a painted hand over her heart. "They're up to something, mark my words!"  
  
"Violet, dear, the twins are always up to something," the fat woman replied. "Why, just yesterday they charmed my frame with blinking lights." She smiled fondly. "It was rather pretty, actually."  
  
"Exactly! Haven't you noticed? They've been rather subdued--"  
  
The portrait swung from the wall with a bang, and two first-year boys clambered out, excited enough to start running the instant their feet hit the corridor floor. Kurama left his hiding place and slipped into the Tower.  
  
"-- could've sworn I saw them looking serious last night--" Violet could be heard, before the door shut.  
  
Kurama crossed the empty Common Room, a portion of his mind noting how much more cluttered, cozy, and bright it was than his own, then climbed the stairs. At the fifth landing, he paused, hand hovering over the door handle.  
  
The sense of Hiei's magic burned brightly on the other side of the door, but... he could manage the next few hours. They both could.  
  
I don't want to be alone.  
  
Winter's coming.  
  
And with that thought, Kurama's hand clenched on the handle, and he opened the door. It took him a second to find Hiei, sitting on the windowsill and half-hidden by all the beds.  
  
"Go away," the little demon muttered.  
  
"It's just me," Kurama said calmly, stepping more fully into the room and closing the door.  
  
Hiei turned his head away from the window, dull eyes falling on Kurama. But he didn't say anything more as Kurama walked slowly to the window, hesitating a few feet from Hiei.  
  
The lack of intensity in Hiei's disinterest was... somewhat unnerving. Hiei was always so focused, whether he was in a killing battle or coldly refusing to acknowledge you. This blank dullness wasn't like him. But then, Kurama had been expecting him to be a bit off.  
  
"Heat and cold trade places on the equinox," Kurama quoted softly, in explanation of his presence. "If your magic fits it, like Koorime ice magic does... the shift is very uncomfortable."  
  
"What do you want?" Hiei grumbled, not denying the point.  
  
"Plant magic fits it too." Kurama shrugged. "Seasons, you see." And whereas Hiei just seemed to be lethargic, as his ice heritage warred with his fiery nature, Kurama was feeling the loss of every leaf out in the Forest.  
  
Hiei stirred, slowly raising an eyebrow as things clicked in his mind. "Oh." Then his eyes flicked to the other side of the window seat. It was the closest thing to an invitation that Kurama would get.  
  
He sat with some relief; he hadn't been quite sure if Hiei would let him stay or not. But he had to press his luck (winter's coming...), and brought his knee up to rest against Hiei's ankle as he shifted to a comfortable position on the sill. It got no reaction, so either Hiei didn't mind, or he wasn't noticing.  
  
"Just how bad is it?" Kurama asked. If it was bad enough that Hiei wasn't noticing a touch...  
  
A long moment passed, then Hiei let his head fall back, twisting so he faced out the window again. "Magnified." Kurama winced. Hiei made some effort, and continued, "Too close to the Arctic for me. Lots of forest, you wouldn't notice." Kurama waited a moment, but nothing more was forthcoming.  
  
"And no local celebrations to take the edge off," Kurama finished.  
  
"Mm."  
  
They lapsed into silence. Kurama turned his head to look out the window, as Hiei was doing, his eyes drawn towards the Forest. Half the canopy was in reds and golds (dying, sleeping--), but the gloom of the forest remained intact. Kurama suspected the sun wouldn't penetrate even in winter, when the trees were all bare.  
  
He shivered. Winter's coming, winter's coming, winter's coming, the brightly colored leaves mocked him. Why couldn't the Westerners celebrate properly, with rituals to soothe supernatural spirits? He'd never realized just how much those worked...  
  
Pulling his gaze away from the Forest, Kurama flicked his eyes over the rest of the grounds. They were empty, except for several little red dots -- the Gryffindor team -- flying over the Quidditch pitch.  
  
At least Yuusuke's not affected, Kurama thought, eyes on a player. He thought he recognized his friend's recklessness in the flight technique. If something attacks, he'll react normally... I'm not sure I can hold back right now. And who knows how Hiei would react? If he can react?  
  
With that, Kurama's gaze settled back indoors, on Hiei. The kitten, Yuki, had pulled herself into Hiei's lap while Kurama had been watching the Forest, and was happily mock-biting and -clawing at Hiei's limp hand as if it was a catnip mouse.  
  
"Four hours," Hiei abruptly said.  
  
"Before the worst is over?" Kurama asked. Hiei nodded. Kurama stifled a sigh (cold and empty and getting worse--) and shifted against Hiei's foot.  
  
"How bad is it?" Hiei asked, just as Kurama had. Kurama glanced up to find Hiei's gaze resting on where their skin met.  
  
"Everything's dying," Kurama replied, a bit sharply. It was dying and leaving and cold... "Even my ningen blood can't keep me completely oblivious to that. So--" That was about all there was to explain. Just... so.  
  
"So... if you were youkai..."  
  
Kurama went faintly red. "I'd be killing or getting sex. Glad I'm not youkai." Though he really wished he was in Makai right now, where there was no seasonal pulse. Or Japan, with its soothing Shubun rituals and city crowds that made the no-touching customs bearable today.  
  
Hiei made a soft sound, still staring at his foot with Kurama's knee against it. Kurama shifted uncomfortably under that gaze and started to move away.  
  
"Just ask next time. Don't make me think," Hiei said, cupping his free hand around Yuki and pulling the kitten against his stomach, leaving space on his legs. Kurama blinked. "Sleep. Wake you when it's over."  
  
Startled, Kurama found himself obeying, twisting onto his back to pillow his head on Hiei's lap. One hand clutched at Hiei's trousers, bunching the heavy fabric in a tight fist. They lay there for a while, just breathing. The loneliness and death faded to the background a bit. And slowly, Kurama felt himself drifting off to sleep, the kitten purring in his ear.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy! Wait a moment, please?"  
  
Draco paused in the corridor, turning to find the green-haired transfer girl -- Koh-ree... Koorime, that was it -- hurrying towards him. She reached him, beaming up towards him in a most disconcerting manner. Since when did Hufflepuffs look glad to see him?  
  
"I'm so glad I caught you, Malfoy!" she said, and indeed, there was something of a puppyish attitude to her right now. He found himself half-wondering if he threw a stick down the corridor, would she run to fetch it? "I wanted to discuss your Defense tutoring."  
  
"My what?" He didn't need help in any class, much less DADA.  
  
Her smile grew, and she almost hummed with energy as she said, "It's not really safe to start practicing core magic on your own. Master Genkai wants everybody to have some supervision until they've gotten a little more experience, and it's really best to work with people in similar fields, and so I'm going to be teaching you. Isn't that great?"  
  
"No." Learning from some wide-eyed little Hufflepuff? What was the world coming to? Next they'd be asking him to associate with Muggles!  
  
Ignoring that answer, the girl pulled out a parchment and quill, running the feather along the sheet. "Now, I have a number of students already scheduled, but you need a special time -- your power isn't enough like theirs. Are you free on Wednesday evenings? Or perhaps you'd prefer Friday mornings--? Slytherin doesn't have classes on Fridays, so you could rest in the afternoon."  
  
"I never agreed to be... tutored," Draco sneered.  
  
Her eyes flicked up to him, wide with incomprehension. "But Genkai says to do it."  
  
"Genkai says this, Genkai says that... you all sound like parrots," Draco snapped. "I don't need someone to hold my hand and walk me through learning my own damn magic. I can do it myself! So just take your sheets and your schedules and your wimpy little Hufflepuff self and sod off!"  
  
He stormed off, leaving a completely stunned Koorime behind.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry came to, with freezing wind buffeting him on a starlit moor. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering in his pajamas, and squinted into the darkness. The heather prickled at his bare feet as he slowly turned, squinting, trying to spot anything to orient himself... a road, a light, even a fence would be helpful.  
  
He was facing the opposite direction from when he'd woken up before he realized three blots a short distance away were human-shaped. One glided over to a pale stone, bent down, and picked something up. A moment later, the stone moved, revealing itself to be a unicorn curled up on the ground. It slowly got to its feet, moving slowly as if drugged under the prodding of the human shape.  
  
Curious, Harry stepped closer. If his footsteps crunched in the autumn-dry brush, he couldn't hear it over the wailing of the strong wind. He paused at a line painted onto the ground. Odd...  
  
Another of the figures slid closer to the unicorn, tilting the beast's chin up. A shifting, as if the arm was plunging back into the robes, then a flash of light slashed across the unicorn's neck. Dark liquid gushed from there onto the ground.  
  
"NO!" Harry yelled. He leapt forward, smashing into an unseen wall. His scar exploded with pain as the scene fell away, the last image in Harry's mind that of a silver hand holding a dripping knife.  
  
Harry bolted upright in his bed with a gasp. His forehead throbbed, his scar a line of fire across it, as he listened to his own harsh breathing. Slowly, he realized where he was -- his own bed in Gryffindor -- and then what had happened.  
  
"Not again..." he groaned, reaching for his glasses. "Gotta see Dumbledore. Right. Now."  
  



	17. Chapter 17

Ch. 21 - Popping Egos  
  
  
  
  
Hiei's eyes flew open. Something had woken him... ah. Harsh breathing, slowly softening, as if the owner was coming out of a fright. Someone'd had a nightmare.  
  
"Not again..." Harry's voice floated through the darkness, nowhere near loud enough to wake anyone else in the room. A gentle flapping and some clicks: Harry was shoving his bedclothes and curtains aside, and fumbling for his glasses. "Gotta see Dumbledore. Right. Now."  
  
What? Dumbledore...? Not just a nightmare, then... and today, of all days. Hiei was still a bit lethargic from the equinox.  
  
He waited, listening as Harry rummaged in his trunk for something. Then the boy padded across the floor, the door slowly creaking open. A pause, then the door clicked shut.  
  
Hiei sat up, pushing his bedclothes and curtains aside. He darted to the door, slipped through it just as carefully and quietly as Harry had, and headed downstairs in the boy's wake. He eased the portrait door open, peering to either side to check that Harry hadn't glanced back.  
  
Harry wasn't in view. Odd. Hiei hadn't thought he'd been that far behind the human... he crept out, closed the portrait (and again, the Fat Lady was sleeping!), and turned right. Harry was probably heading for the Headmaster's Office. Hiei wasn't entirely sure where that was, but chances were that it was on a different floor, or a different wing of the castle. That would put Harry's route through the staircase atrium.  
  
Reaching the seventh-floor landing, Hiei peered carefully over the railing, down into the depths of the atrium. Two stories below, a single staircase ground slowly to a halt. Hiei's eyes narrowed. He leaned a bit further over the railing, turning his head to the side in order to hear better.  
  
Far below, there was the sound of a faint, shuffling step. If Hiei wasn't a demon, and hadn't survived the Makai wilds and cities alone since infancy, he wouldn't have been able to hear it.  
  
Checking the current positions of the various staircases, Hiei climbed onto the bannister and began "flickering" in pursuit of the noise, assuming that Harry had cast some sort of invisibility charm on himself.  
  
The footsteps led him to a landing on the second floor, down several corridors, then into a long corridor with no cover. Hiei waited behind the corner, listening as carefully as he could, but before Harry could've gotten all the way to the far end, his steps came to an abrupt halt. A soft intake of air; Harry was going to speak.  
  
"Gr--"  
  
CRASH!  
  
Hiei clapped his hands over his ears. Peeves' cackling rose over the unmistakeable, ringing echoes of fallen metal: the trophies, the suits of armor, Hiei didn't care what it was, it hurt!  
  
He peered around the corner, just in time to see a gargoyle jump back into place. Eyes narrowing, Hiei darted forwards, skidding silently to a stop before the statue. It didn't move; it obviously wasn't activated by a person's presence. So... it had a password, a manual trigger, was keyed to specific people, or any combination of the three. He might be able to see that in the matrix of magic powering the gargoyle.  
  
He yanked his headband off, just in time to be half-blinded when an intricate net of wards flared into life behind the stone. He clapped a hand over the Jagan and hissed, his own eyes watering. He hated being flash-blinded. The Jagan always maliciously amplified it.  
  
Wrapping the Jagan back up again (which would help the damned implant recover more quickly), Hiei turned to simpler methods. He bent close to the statue and slowly ran his hands along it, feeling for physical triggers. Not that he really expected to find one, considering how dependent these wizards seemed to be on their wands, but that was exactly why a purely non-magical latch would be excellent security here.  
  
His eyes fell shut, as Hiei focused on what his fingers were telling him. Flat stone... dulled edge... chipped edge... more stone... a carved feather slipped. Hiei's eyes popped open. A latch? Carefully, he pried at the loose bit. It clicked faintly out of place.  
  
Nothing happened. A dud, then. But it at least proved that someone in the school's history was capable of using Muggle tricks. Hiei continued to feel for latches.  
  
Three dummy latches later, Hiei was beginning to lose patience. He was also beginning to wonder if the unknown person responsible for this gargoyle had been entirely sane. It was a fine line between genius and insanity, after all, and using four dummy latches -- even Enma's vault had only had two. Well, two that Kurama had found. But there had been considerably more magical defenses guarding the land, the building, the hallway, and the door, plus live guards.  
  
One more. If he found one more fake latch, he was switching back to the Jagan, whether it had recovered or not. He pulled himself up one-handed, using a wing to get himself within arm's reach of the higher parts of the gargoyle, and brushed his free hand over the carved throat.  
  
"Jaganshi, would you be so kind as to explain to me why exactly you are molesting a statue? At one o'clock in the morning?" Hiei froze, mortified. Snape continued, "And Jaganshi? That's not a request."  
  
Hiei just glared.  
  
Snape glared back.  
  
Finally, the professor broke the stalemate. "Five points for molesting the statue, twenty points for being out after curfew, and twenty for disobeying a professor. Come along, Mr. Jaganshi. I think I will escort you back to your dormitory. Just so you don't get... lost... on the way."  
  
Hiei growled as he followed.  
  
****  
  
"-- so it was pretty much exactly the same, just on a moor instead of in a swamp, Professor."  
  
"I see," Dumbledore murmured. "And how are you feeling now, Harry?"  
  
Harry's mouth quirked ruefully. "In a word? Terrible." His scar was burning, his head was pounding, his muscles ached... and he'd managed to overlook all of that until he'd sat down in the office, just like he'd overlooked how tired and groggy he was from waking up in the middle of the night until now. The adrenaline must be wearing off.  
  
Dumbledore was nodding sagely. "I thought as much. Come, I'll walk you back to Gryffindor."  
  
****  
  
During breakfast, Professor McGonagall recieved an owl. As she read her letter, a fleeting expression of worry passed over her face, piquing Kurama's curiosity. She leaned over, murmured something to Genkai, and finished her breakfast. Then the two teachers left.  
  
Kurama casually stood and left as well.  
  
He found the two slightly down the hall, and slid into a nook just within earshot.  
  
"They aren't Auror trainees, Genkai, they're children. They aren't eager to suffer for their education, particularly not on weekends. Weekend lie-ins are very nearly sacred to them, and they'll do just about anything to avoid being disturbed."  
  
Genkai folded her arms and glared upwards. "They have Saturdays off. Coddling them just makes them lose respect for you."  
  
McGonagall glared right back down. "Perhaps, Professor Genkai, that is how it is done in Japan, but you have accepted a teaching position in England, in case you hadn't noticed. These students did not come here under the impression that they would be forced into Eastern style schooling on the whim of an eccentric teacher, who, if the recent pattern holds true, will not even be returning next year!"  
  
Genkai sputtered, and finally said, "What I do with Yuusuke is my business, and his. He agreed to the training."  
  
"That is well and good," McGonagall sniffed. "But, you will wake him and take him out for training quietly. You will not wake the other students in his dormitory, nor will you engage in further random distruction of school property. Mr. Uremeshi may have agreed to your training, but I assure you that Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Finnigan have not. Nor have I seen Mr. Jaganshi or Mr. Kuwabara joining you. Quite frankly, Professor, there is only one of Mr. Uremeshi, and there are seven of his roommates."  
  
"I was asked here to train these children in defending themselves," Genkai reasoned.  
  
"Of course you were," McGonagall replied smoothly. "And you did it so well that five of them, including Harry Potter, begged one of our alumni to send them enchanted earplugs to sleep in!" Genkai rocked back on her heels, eyes wide with shock. Kurama was stunned as well-- having Harry Potter and all of his roommates unable to hear if someone entered their room during the night was a dangerous liability. McGonagall continued more quietly, "I am given to understand that it took Mr. Kuwabara physically shaking them to wake them up, since they couldn't hear a bloody thing."  
  
Genkai opened her mouth. McGonagall raised a hand and forestalled her. "My point, Professor Genkai," she said calmly, "Is that if I hear of you disturbing the sleep of any of those children for anything less than a full-scale emergency, I will transfigure you into a plaid tea cozy. And then, I will inform the portrait of the Fat Lady that you are not to be let into Gryffindor Tower, no matter what teacher's password you give. I hope we understand each other."  
  
"Perfectly, Professor."  
  
"Excellent, Professor."  
  
McGonagall turned and swept away. A moment passed before Genkai turned her head. "I know you're there, Kurama. I suppose you're quite amused."  
  
"Well... yes." Why lie? It wasn't every day he got to see someone take Genkai down a peg.  
  
"Don't be." Genkai's eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement. "This is a bit of a culture clash. It's going to be just as much your problem soon enough."  
  
Kurama's smile didn't fade. "Only if I hadn't taken their sensibilities into account when I began my own planning."  
  
Genkai snorted and stalked off, and Kurama headed outside.  
  
This is a good day.  
  
****  
  
A cool presence near his wards woke Hiei late. He sat up, yawning, and shoved the curtain aside. Yukina sat on a chair next to his bed, eyes downcast, and looked as if she'd been waiting patiently for a while. He raised an eyebrow in question.  
  
"Good morning, oniisan," Yukina said softly, her gaze flicking up to him for just a second.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
"I... you were ill, yesterday, and I didn't..." She shrank in a bit on herself. "I'm so sorry!"  
  
Hiei frowned. "What the hell do you have to be sorry for?"  
  
"I didn't..." He had to strain to hear her next words. "... even notice..."  
  
"I wasn't expecting you to," Hiei grumbled. It hurt to hear that, but it wasn't as if she could've done anything but worry. "You weren't yourself." She wouldn't -- couldn't -- have been unaffected.  
  
"Well, no... I was terribly rude yesterday. To everyone..."  
  
Hiei blinked. He'd managed to distract her from apologizing, but... "Rude?" Since when was Yukina, of all people, rude?  
  
"I skipped all the courtesies... I scheduled all my tutoring without so much as asking anyone to sit, much less have tea!" Oh. That sort of rude. Botan's mannerisms. Hiei huffed with some amusement.  
  
"These gaijin wouldn't have noticed," he told her. "'To the point' is their way."  
  
"But... but Mr. Malfoy did! He was terribly upset!"  
  
"Forget Malfoy."  
  
"But--!"  
  
"He's not worth it."  
  
Yukina sighed. "He doesn't want me to tutor him at all. And I think... I think he might have been practicing on his own..."  
  
"Nothing you can do about it," Hiei said gruffly, shoving the blankets back. He swung his legs out of the bed, then froze, feeling Yukina's eyes on him. "What?"  
  
"Um... could you...?"  
  
Hiei raised an eyebrow, waiting. If she wanted him to keep an eye on Malfoy, he'd direct her to Kurama.  
  
"Could you tell me what you would do?" she asked.  
  
Oh. "I'd let him sink or swim," he said flatly. Yukina's gaze turned downwards again, shamefully. "But I'd offer again, after he got into trouble trying to do it on his own," he offered, lying. She glanced back up, visibly more relieved.  
  
A soft rustle caught Hiei's attention. He stiffened, then spun towards the source, flinging curtains aside. Sunshine streamed onto the bed, and Harry flinched away violently, rolling over with a low moan and dragging a pillow over his face.  
  
"You were listening?" Hiei growled.  
  
"Nng... not so loud..."  
  
Hiei blinked. As Yukina stepped up to peer around his shoulder, he asked more quietly, "Were you listening?"  
  
"Wasn'..." Harry pushed himself half-upright, scrabbling for his glasses on the nightstand. "Solspec," Harry muttered, as he dragged them onto his face. The lenses went dark. "I was having a lie-in. Ow."  
  
"Harry-san... are you feeling alright?" Yukina asked.  
  
"Sure. I'm fine." A pause. "Thanks for asking."  
  
Yukina smiled. "I understand that you occasionally become ill because of your dreams?" Harry tensed, and Yukina hurried to reassure him. "Oh, don't worry. This isn't common knowledge. I was told because I know certain healing charms not available in Western medicine." She held a hand out. "With your permission...?"  
  
Harry eyed her warily from behind his darkened lenses. "Will it hurt?"  
  
"No."  
  
Harry flopped back onto the bed. "Whatever, then."  
  
Hiei stepped aside, letting Yukina in. As Yukina gently took Harry's glasses and set them aside, Hiei fetched her chair. She sat, her hand over Harry's forehead. A pale blue diffuse light surrounded the boy for a few seconds, then receded. Harry had relaxed completely, and sighed a quiet "Thank you," before settling into sleep.  
  
*****  
  
Several hours later...  
  
 _Dear Mum,_  
  
 _I'm the new Keeper for the team! I was hoping, but kind of not hoping, too. A couple of people think it's because Harry and the twins were most of the team, but they all insist it's not that. They would've picked Ginny, too, if it was that, right?_  
  
 _School's going well. Professor Genkai made us run a big hexing drill last week. We had to work in little teams with Slytherins (yuck!), but I got in a few good shots. Best (and worst) part is that Malfoy can't blame Harry for any of the hexes that got him. They were on the same team._  
  
 _Harry got sick again last night, same thing as it was over the summer. Madame Pomfrey's ordered bed rest for the day, but he managed to get out of staying in the Infirmary because Jaganshi's sister wanted to practice her new healing charm. He's almost better now, and starting to whine about losing at chess. You know him._  
  
 _Love,_  
  
 _Ron_  
  
Harry took up his quill and dipped it in the ink.  
  
 _P.S. - Thank you for the brownies. Don't believe Ron, I'm all better. He's just mad that I didn't wake him up when it happened. And I'm NOT whining._  
  
 _Harry_


	18. The Importance of Being Tutored

  
  
Genkai looked surprisingly subdued when Harry's class convened in the DADA room on Monday.  
  
"It has been brought to my attention that my methods are too... authoritarian for you. Therefore, I am recommending -- rather than requiring -- out-of-class tutoring." She paused, eyes traveling over the two Houses. "Most of you will be approached this week, if you have not been already. Should you opt not to take advantage of this offer, I recommend," she bit out the word, "that you arrange to practice core magic with someone you trust. Do NOT practice until you are tired or sore. Defense is about protecting your life, not draining it." A pause. "Any questions?"  
  
Hermione's hand shot up.  
  
"Granger?"  
  
"Can we approach someone to tutor us?"  
  
"No," Genkai said curtly. "If we have someone with skills in your field, you will recieve an offer. Otherwise, your tutor's only use would be to watch that you don't overexert yourself -- they don't have the time to do the outside research required to be any help outside their expertise."  
  
"That's not fair!" Ron blurted.  
  
Genkai scowled. "You will raise your hand and wait to be called on, Mr. Weasley, if you wish to comment. Am I understood?"  
  
Ron muttered something that could have been agreement.  
  
"Good. As I was about to add, this tutoring arrangement is meant to maximize the amount of time and attention available to every student. Those of you who don't recieve an offer to learn in your specific field will have the option to work with me. Any other questions?" Silence. "Very well. Today we will be discussing your performance in last week's hexing exercise." She flicked her wand, and a photograph leapt from her desk to hover in the air. Another flick stretched the paper, making the image large enough to see clearly. It was an aerial view of the arena room, taken just before last week's drill.  
  
"Observe," Genkai said, using her wand to point at the teams in their 'planning' phase. "Your key mistake. See how the teams are all divided down House lines..."  
  
Quills went to paper, and the Defense class settled in to dissect their tactics.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama lay on his stomach on his bed, textbook open, wand jammed into his ponytail, parchment laying before him. His attention was not on his homework, though, but rather on a large leaf dangling from a vine. That vine, woven in with the Devil's Snare around his headboard, ran down the bedpost, along the bottom of the wall, and out the window. From there, it snaked down the cliff, through the cliff and into the dungeons, and then spread throughout the entirety of Hogwarts. The broad leaf in Kurama's hand was one of the monitors for his spyeye.  
  
His thumb toggled a joystick-like nub at the base of the leaf, as Kurama shuttled through views of the interior of the castle. The image flickered and settled on a view of a small, round room under Gryffindor Tower. Hiei sat on the carpeted floor of that room, facing two girls -- the Patil twins. All three seemed to be meditating. A faint smile ghosted over Kurama's face. Meditation looked good on Hiei. It smoothed the lines on his face, masking his dark, defensive attitude without dulling his focus. The result was an illusion of vulnerability that was very... very... appealing.  
  
Kurama tapped the joystick, cutting away from Hiei to continue through the video streams. Images flashed by: students studying, playing cards, roughhousing; teachers in hallways, grading papers, arguing. A pillow fight in the first-year Ravenclaw girls' dorm; a more serious fight in the third-year one, where they were now drawing lines to divide the room. Two unmistakeable heads of red hair lurking in a passage behind the sixth-year dorm -- how had the Weasley twins managed to get into the girls' part of Ravenclaw?  
  
The views flickered back down through the boys' half of Ravenclaw Tower (suspicious-looking potion-making for the 7th-years, poker for the 4th-years, flying toys for the 1sts), and back into the main part of the building. He circled around the 6th floor of the Ravenclaw wing, then the 5th, and found himself looking into a large, beautifully appointed bathroom. A painted mermaid flicked her fins, lazing on a rock in her frame. Under the portrait, a white marble tub overflowed with bubbles, steam... and Malfoy. The blond had his hands cupped on the wide ledge surrounding the bath, and was staring dazedly at a misshapen crystal he held. As the view zoomed in, the crystal pulsed and grew, becoming more symmetrical. Malfoy's eyes glazed over a bit more.  
  
Now that was singularly stupid, Kurama thought. Genkai's notes had said Malfoy made crystals; he was practicing core magic. It was all too easy to wear oneself out -- all the Tantei had done so at some point or another, and that was when they knew what they were doing -- and the water was more than deep enough to drown in.  
  
What to do? Send a prefect out to check on Malfoy? Go himself? Compromise his spyeye and use it to keep the blond from drowning if he went under? All the options had drawbacks... fortunately, he wasn't going to have to put any into motion. Malfoy set aside his crystal and grabbed the soap.  
  
Kurama left his dormmate to his bathing, and continued on. Another circle around the castle, another level down, he found the library. It wasn't packed, but it had a fair number of students in it. Including some of the ones Kurama found more intriguing...  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Accio, Yuusuke," Keiko repeated.  
  
"Akuchio," Yuusuke said. His translation earring lay on the table between them, and had for the last hour, which was how long they'd been trying to train Yuusuke to say the word correctly.  
  
"Iie," Keiko said. "Ac." She accented the "k" sound, managing to remove almost the entire vowel from the syllable.  
  
"Aku."  
  
"Yuusuke, you can't keep relying on your earring to get the sounds right. Please TRY."  
  
"Nani?"  
  
"Gomen nasai. Ac."  
  
"Aku."  
  
Further down the table, Hermione read from a thick, dusty book.  
  
"'--for is it not proven, that all of their ilk have most brutally slain their masters an' summonsers to a man, and then gone on to cut a swathe through the ranks of mankind, that they may be found at the end of a trail of blood? Foolish is he who would learn the arts of the lower realms--'"  
  
"'Mione, if you've gotta read these debates out loud, couldn't you pick something in plain English?" Ron asked.  
  
"This is about as plain as it gets," Hermione said. "I'm using a charm to translate from a form of Arabic."  
  
"Oh." Ron paused. "Can you translate to real English?"  
  
Hermione sighed in mock exasperation. "Of course I can. It says that no one's ever survived summoning a demon. Every one has broken free of whatever control the wizard had over it, killed him, and gone on a killing spree."  
  
Ron's eyes went wide. "Wicked..."  
  
"Not really," Keiko spoke up. "Most demons are, but I've encountered a couple that aren't wicked at all." The Trio gaped at her, and she went faintly red. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."  
  
"Nani?" Yuusuke asked.  
  
"Yukimura..." Hermione said slowly. "Are you saying it's okay to summon demons?"  
  
"Of course not!" Keiko protested. "Wouldn't you be upset if you got yanked into some weird world and someone tried to force you to do things? An angry demon isn't something you want to see." She paused, and seemed to deflate a bit. "Most demons are killers, so your chances of survival are slim to none. I was just saying that they aren't all wicked."  
  
"Nani?"  
  
Ron shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean 'wicked' literally..."  
  
Yuusuke snatched up his earring and snapped it back on. "WHAT are you guys talking about?"  
  
"Demons," Keiko and Hermione said in unison.  
  
"Demons?!" Yuusuke squawked.  
  
"Have you ever met any?" Hermione asked. Yuusuke nearly fell out of his chair.  
  
"Well... um... that is... er..."  
  
"He has," Keiko said. "The barrier's a lot weaker in Japan for some reason. The lower-level demons keep sneaking through and making trouble." Yuusuke made an odd sort of strangled sound. "Genkai takes her more advanced students with her to go catch them sometimes."  
  
"Really?" Hermione asked. "Did you ever go?"  
  
"Oh, no, I'm her newest student," Keiko said. "But she let me do research--" Hermione's eyes lit up, "--on some of the demons they went up against. The more human ones have some absolutely fascinating rituals--"  
  
Harry glanced at Ron, who flicked his eyes towards the girls and then rolled his eyes at the ceiling. They're going to be chattering about this forever now, the expression said.  
  
Catching Yuusuke's eye, Harry cocked his head at the door. We're going to run for it. Wanna come?  
  
Yuusuke quirked a smile. Hell yes!  
  
Slowly, silently, they pushed their chairs back, stood (not too quickly, and as casually as they could manage, so as not to draw the girls' attention), and successfully snuck out.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Tuesday morning, the sixth-year Ravenclaw girls came to breakfast with bright blue hair. By the time the food was served, the Weasley twins had endured three feminine tirades (and one work order, issued by a laughing Ravenclaw who rather liked her new look). They loudly proclaimed their innocence, but no one really believed them.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Thursday afternoon, Kurama left lunch, trailing the Gryffindors. As they dispersed for their free afternoon, Kurama slid up behind Neville Longbottom. He tapped the boy on the shoulder. "Excuse me," he said, as Neville turned startled eyes on him. "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment?"  
  
Neville, oddly enough, paled slightly. "Me?" Kurama nodded. "Er... okay. But it'll have to be where someone can see us."  
  
Kurama was really starting to dislike his Slytherin badge. "Anywhere you'd like."  
  
Neville glanced around, and saw Seamus hovering near the end of the hall, eyes pinned to Kurama. He visibly relaxed, though only slightly, and turned back. "In there, then." He pointed at an empty classroom.  
  
Not glancing at Seamus -- the Gryffindor was hostile enough already, despite, or perhaps because of, their teamwork in the hexing drill -- Kurama walked into the room, and allowed Neville to pick a seat before taking one to face him. He ignored Seamus as the boy inconspicuously appeared to hover in the doorway.  
  
"Please forgive my rudeness," Kurama began, "but I assume you would worry about poison if I offered you refreshment." Neville winced, but nodded weakly. "So I will, ah, 'cut to the chase'. I wish to offer you tutoring."  
  
"A... already?" Neville stuttered. That was a good sign. The boy had seemed completely incompetent in their shared classes, but here was evidence that it wasn't due to gross stupidity. Kurama had wondered; if Neville hadn't realized that Kurama would be the most likely tutor for plant magic, then he would have been impossible to teach. But he wasn't, and it was a relief that Kurama would only have to deal with fear, not idiocy.  
  
"Um... I... well..." Neville continued. Kurama waited, smiling faintly and trying to seem as unmenacing as possible. "I... sure, I guess, but... er... I can't do that thing. With the rose. Anything like that."  
  
Kurama blinked. "Of course not. That's no technique to start off with."  
  
Neville seemed to shrink in on himself. "I meant... I..." He cast about for the right words. "I don't want to... just... with the pillar... or anything..."  
  
Oh. "Just attack and destroy like that?" Kurama asked gently. Neville stiffened. "You don't have to."  
  
"I don't?"  
  
Kurama shook his head. "No. Fighting... it's only something I do when necessary. It's not my profession, and doesn't have to be yours." He paused, letting that sink in. "I thought that, after you mastered the actual growth and control, we would focus on medicines and remedies."  
  
Neville managed to deflate a bit more. "I'm terrible in Potions."  
  
"Not potions. Remedies." Kurama paused, then looked up and caught Seamus' eye. He raised one hand to his hair, carefully watching that Seamus wasn't going to react badly, and pulled a seed loose. It sprouted, threw out leaves, and filled his hand with a purple blossom. Kurama displayed the flower to Neville. "This is a powerful antitoxin," he murmured, catching the boy's gaze with his own and holding it. "And it's not the only one. There are thousands of others spread out across the three worlds, and you have the ability to make them all, no brewing required. It's all right here," Kurama reached out, almost -- but not quite -- tapping the front of Neville's robes, over his heart. Neville's eyes flew wide, and Kurama drew back. "When would you like to begin?" he asked, more conversationally.  
  
The Gryffindor gulped. "I... have the afternoon free."  
  
"Excellent," Kurama said, smiling. He stood, bowing slightly and gesturing towards the door. "Would you like to go outside? We should start with mosses, and there's a lot on the castle walls and near the lake."  
  
They passed Seamus and headed down the hall. The Gryffindor indiscreetly shadowed them, but Kurama didn't mind. He would get bored and leave eventually... at the latest, when it was obvious that plenty of people would be able to see Neville and Kurama.  
  
Hopefully.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry glanced at the handful of other students from the corner of his eye. There were both boys and girls, one or two from every House, and every year above fifth. They ranged from heavyset (a Slytherin) to wispy (a Hufflepuff) to short with glasses (a Ravenclaw). None of them looked much like weapons specialists -- but then, he didn't really think he did, either, and yet here he was.  
  
The room wasn't the DADA arena (Genkai had lower-year classes on Friday mornings), but it was very similar, though square rather than round. It had racks holding a variety of wooden weapons, a strange reed matting on the floor, and mirrors along one wall.  
  
Hiei stood at the center of the mat, shoeless, his arms crossed and the mirrors behind him. He gazed flatly over the gathering of students.  
  
"You are here to learn the art of using your weapon," he announced. "If you have a problem with my methods at any time, there's the door." His eyes flicked to the exit pointedly.  
  
"I am not teaching you to manifest your weapons; that's Kuwabara's job. But -- should he not warn you of this -- there will be no playing or showing off with your core magic. The idiot did that when we met, kept his sword out for all of five minutes, and then collapsed -- and this was after several weeks of training. You won't repeat his mistake. Don't manifest your weapon except under his direction.  
  
"Don't play with the weapons in this room, whether they are practice weapons or not. These are not toys, this isn't a game, and I have no trouble with putting you in the hospital wing myself if you're stupid enough to behave that way." He jerked his head back towards the mirrors. "I will see you if you do that in here, and I'll hear about it if you do it outside.  
  
"It should be obvious that I won't tolerate fights or attacks. Leave your problems outside." And with that, the longest speech Harry had ever heard Hiei say, the boy stepped back to the far edge of the mat. "Take your shoes off, spread out over the mat, and we'll begin warmup exercises. Don't stretch farther than it hurts."  
  
Warmup exercises? Ugh. Harry hadn't done that since Muggle gym class. But he toed his shoes off, found a spot, and followed Hiei through the familiar Muggle stretches. It was amazing how limber Hiei was -- Harry was sure he'd only seen television gymnasts stretch that far. His elementary school classmates had never managed to, for example, spread their legs completely apart and lay forward on their stomachs, but Hiei looked as if he could fall asleep like that.  
  
Eventually, Hiei let the class stand once more. He left the mat, gathering practice weapons from the racks and passing them out. Each student got something different, no doubt the closest equivalent to whatever weapon they created, and Harry found himself with an oddly shaped sword. It seemed to be a hollow bundle of reeds or slats, and clacked faintly when Harry shook it.  
  
"A basic bokken," Hiei murmured as he handed it to Harry. "Since we don't have anything precise for you. Hold it like so," and he moved Harry's fingers to the right grip.  
  
Hiei finished passing out weapons, took a bokken for himself, and returned to the front of the room. He pointed at the ground. "Plant your feet. You want a good base, to make it harder to be pushed over. Legs shoulder-width apart, one foot behind you, angled sideways." He demonstrated, putting his left foot back. "You can be pushed like this--" he tilted backwards, putting his weight on his left foot, then returned to the original pose, "-- or run at your opponent, or pivot away. Get used to standing like this." Everybody shuffled to mimic the stance. "You've got your grip and your stance. Weapons up. First block." He brought his bokken up, seeming to almost snap it into a precise angle before his body. "HA!"  
  
Harry copied him, trying to put the last-second snap into the block.  
  
"Let me hear you put some force into it," Hiei ordered. "Remember this is a block! There will be another weapon hitting yours when it comes time to use it! Oppose that force!"  
  
Harry brought his bokken up again, this time picturing something hurtling down at it -- sudden flash of memory, the Basilisk crashing down on him, Godric's sword the only thing between him and poison fangs -- "HA!" he yelled, snapping the bokken up against the crushing serpent, hearing echoes from the other students.  
  
"Again!"  
  
"HA!"  
  
"Again!"  
  
"HA!"  
  
**  
  
Forty minutes, and one additional pose ("first strike") later, Hiei allowed them to stop. Harry let his sword and his arms fall to his sides with a sense of relief. His years of wandwork and Snitch-catching, fortunately, meant his arms weren't hurting too badly -- yet -- but he was sure he would be thinking in the rhythm of that chorused shout for the next few hours, and if he didn't hear it in his dreams tonight, he no doubt would be after a few weeks of this.  
  
As Harry put his bokken away, crowding to the racks with the rest of the class, Hiei stepped up next to him. "Potter, come with me. Everyone else, stay here with Kuwabara."  
  
"Hey, no fair!" someone protested. "We've been here all morning -- it's almost lunchtime!"  
  
"We're hungry, too!" another person added.  
  
Unseen by anyone but Harry, Hiei rolled his eyes. "Kuwabara's session won't last more than five minutes. None of you are that strong yet." He brushed past Harry and out the door. Harry glanced at the class, a bit unhappy -- why was he always singled out? -- then shrugged and followed Hiei.  
  
In the corridor, he ran a couple of steps to catch up with the other boy. "Hey," he said. "Why?"  
  
Hiei's eyes flicked towards him, but he didn't pretend to not know what Harry meant. "There's no reason for you to stay. Unless you want to cause another explosion."  
  
Like when Genkai had tested him. Oh. Harry cast about for another subject. "I don't think I've ever heard you talk so long."  
  
A shrug. "I'm teaching. It's not enough to say 'do this', without saying why." A smirk. "That's Snape's approach."  
  
Harry grinned. "It sucks."  
  
Hiei nodded. It was silent, and, like Moody, carried undertones of vigilance. But it wasn't hostile. Harry could deal with honest, non-hostile silence.  
  
They continued on to lunch.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The following week was considerably calmer than any of the Tantei could have expected, considering that the 5th-years and above had all had their initial practice session in core magic. Perhaps the varied, pointed lectures on the dangers of wasting their reserves had worked. Not even the Slytherins tried anything.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Go on," Draco said, waving off his lackeys and teammates, the gesture elegant despite his Quidditch gloves. "I'm going to fly a bit longer." He watched the team gather up their gear and the balls (they knew better than to expect him to stoop to something as menial as helping), then leave. Once they were out of sight, and he was sure none of them had bothered to double back to spy on him, Draco tore off his Quidditch gloves and hurried over to the stands. He picked a spot well-sheltered from the wind and the sight of the castle, dropped his things, and plopped -- no, sat hastily and a bit overeagerly; how had that word gotten into his vocabulary? -- onto the grass.  
  
It wasn't dark enough to actually see the power running through his body, but Draco could sense it, and he'd managed to get in enough practice that he didn't need the cold to visualize his power pushing free of his body and freezing solid. Lumpy little crystals filled his hands, clinking and sparkling in the late afternoon sun as he practiced. He didn't need the cold... he didn't need anything.  
  
Those arrogant fools thought he needed a tutor. This was proof enough he didn't. Soon he'd be making better crystals -- sharp blades, expensive jewels, spell components, anything he pleased. Let them "teach" the other students all they liked: their Muggle-favoring propaganda, their little "rules" to hold the best people down and let the stupid masses walk all over them... Draco saw right through their plot. And he wasn't having any of it!  
  
"Safety," he groused aloud, unawares. The crystals rained from his hands, glittering brilliantly, dizzily. "Any idiot can tell when they're going too far..." The sparkles were getting brighter, multiplying; was he getting better quality gems?  
  
"Any... idiot..."  
  
The stones fell, scattering over the spinning ground, as the sun went out.


	19. Penalties

  
The sun set during dinner, and by the time Harry and the rest of the Quidditch team had gotten down to the pitch and geared up, it was quite dark. The team headed out onto the pitch, though, six with their wands out and their brooms in their off hand, and Yuusuke behind them with the box of Quidditch balls and a school broom. They gathered in the center of the pitch, and as Yuusuke dropped the box heavily onto the ground, the other six pointed their wands straight up.  
  
"Lumos solarium!" they chorused. Bright light shot from their wands, soaring high above the pitch and spreading to illuminate the entirety of it. This was a custom all the teams used in the winter months, when 'dawn practice' (if it really occured at dawn) could be as late as 10 am, and sunset came before tea.  
  
Harry kicked the box open, taking the Quaffle out as everyone else mounted their brooms. The Weasleys took off, Ron heading for the goalhoops to take up his position, and the twins readying their bats. Meanwhile, the Chasers arrayed themselves in the standard wedge formation teams started the game with.  
  
"Don't forget we're here for a reason, Urameshi!" Fred-or-George called over cheerfully, waving his bat. "Your hands belong to the Quaffle! Leave the poor Bludgers alone!"  
  
"Aw, lay off!" Yuusuke shouted back. Harry freed the Snitch, unlocked the Bludgers -- which soared high into the air -- and tossed the Quaffle up before the ribbing got too distracting. Angelina caught the Quaffle and zoomed off, the rest of the team in her wake. Harry mounted and took off as well, but at a far different angle. Everybody else had plays to coordinate and practice, but Harry's sole function was to stay out of the way until he spotted the Snitch.  
  
He took his Firebolt up nearly to the level of the light spells, and started circling, eyes out for Bludgers and the Snitch. Below, the twins zoomed back and forth across the pitch, bats swinging in harmony as they whacked the Bludgers away. The Chasers performed play after play, the Quaffle now in Yuusuke's hands, Angelina's, Andrew's, through the hoops... Angelina, Andrew, Yuusuke, through the hoops... Andrew, Angelina, Yuusuke, Angelina, through the hoops...  
  
"Come on, Ron," Harry murmured to himself. "You know this. Quit stressing and let it happen." Angelina, Yuusuke, Andr-- no, Yuusuke had kept it, Angelina, Andrew, throw to the hoops... and into Ron's hands. "Yes!"  
  
Harry almost absently ducked a Bludger ("'Scuse us, Harry, mind if we play through?" "Seen that Snitch yet, old chap?"), and caught a glimpse of brightness out of the corner of his eye. He dived -- gold in the corner, near the stands, in the ditch... not moving? He came to a stop hovering above the ditch, staring incredulously.  
  
Draco Malfoy, adolescent bane of Gryffindors and other nice people, was crumpled facedown, unconscious, in the mud. Poetic justice at its finest, Harry supposed.  
  
He turned, put two fingers in his mouth, and whistled, catching the rest of the team's attention. He waved for them to come down. Angelina gestured with the Quaffle pointedly -- _we're busy!_ \-- but Harry waved more insistently, and after a couple minutes of silent argument, the team flew down to join him.  
  
"What IS it, Harry?" Angelina asked.  
  
Harry just pointed.  
  
"This is bloody brilliant," Ron breathed. "Does anybody have a camera?"  
  
"Nope," Andrew said. He flew down a bit closer and nudged Malfoy over with his foot. Malfoy rolled limply onto his back, revealing a pile of lumpy crystals.  
  
"Oh hell," Yuusuke groaned, dismounting to kneel next to Malfoy.  
  
"What?" Angelina asked, as Yuusuke carefully pried open an eyelid, checked the blond's pulse, and tilted his head about as if looking for something, muttering in Japanese under his breath. He lifted his hand, palm up.  
  
"Yuusuke?" George asked.  
  
"Core magic. Stupid gaijin overextended himself," Yuusuke said shortly. Blue light seeped from his hand and formed a misty ball in his palm, and he slammed it into Malfoy's chest. "Someone better go get Genkai and Pomfrey."  
  
Andrew nodded and flew off.  
  
****  
  
The portrait door slammed open, spitting a tiny first-year boy into the Gryffindor common room. Hiei glanced up from his book, staring along with the rest of the Gryffindors present, as the child bent, panting for breath. Other first-years crowded around the boy.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Was it Snape?"  
  
"Was it Peeves?"  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
The boy kept shaking his head, raising his hand with one finger up -- give me a minute. "'S Malfoy," he managed between breaths. "Saw Pomfrey... 'n Genkai... bringin' 'im in... on a stretcher--!"  
  
The room exploded with questions and not a few cheers. Hiei shut his book, stood, and walked out through the portrait hole. Perhaps the other students hadn't realized, but there were very few reasons that Genkai would be called in to help the nurse. Hiei had a strong suspiscion that he knew exactly what had happened to Malfoy.  
  
He intercepted Yukina just outside the Infirmary.  
  
"Oniisan--!"  
  
"You heard," Hiei said. It wasn't a question.  
  
"They said it was his core magic," Yukina told him. That was exactly what Hiei had guessed. "I thought, maybe, I could help..."  
  
Hiei snorted. "Let him suffer."  
  
"Hiei!"  
  
Deep inside, buried where no one could see -- save perhaps Kurama, who was entirely too perceptive sometimes -- Hiei winced. Yukina had used his name, rather than the 'oniisan' she was entitled to use. She probably hadn't even noticed that she'd done it... but the faint hint of rejection stung.  
  
"Let. Him. Suffer," he repeated. "Or he'll probably die next time."  
  
****  
  
By the next morning, the entire school was buzzing about Draco Malfoy's accident. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws kept stopping members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, begging for firsthand details. All three Weasleys were only too happy to comply -- loudly, with precise reenactments of Malfoy-in-the-mud and Malfoy-being-kicked-faceup -- but the other team members were less inclined to do so.  
  
Harry just couldn't quite revel in the fact that someone was lying comatose in the Hospital Wing. Even if it was Malfoy. He deferred to Ron the few times he was asked.  
  
Yuusuke was fairly easygoing at first, brushing off the curious students with yawns and sleepy grunts of "breakfast", but after the tenth student (an intent Ravenclaw upperclassman, in the Great Hall), he stood, slamming his hands on the table and making all the plates rattle. "That's IT!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the Hall. "The next person to ask me about Malfoy gets a fist to his face!"  
  
Dead silence in the Hall. Then, the Ravenclaw turned to Harry. "So, can I ask you?"  
  
"Erm..."  
  
"No," Yuusuke interrupted. "Beat it! No one's getting breakfast until all our butts are on the benches, and I. Want. Food! Scram!"  
  
The boy held out for another second, then 'scrammed' as ordered when Yuusuke flexed his fist. Yuusuke gave one last glare around the Hall, then sat.  
  
Dumbledore stood. "Mr. Urameshi, while I certainly understand and sympathize that you are feeling pestered by your classmates, I'm afraid that I must require you to stop threatening them. And, students, I would appreciate it a great deal if I could eat my breakfast in peace, so I ask that you please refrain from questioning the Gryffindor Quidditch team."  
  
The food appeared, and everyone began ladling breakfast onto their plates. Owls arrived with the morning paper and mail, stealing toast and bacon, splattering milk and cereal, knocking a few plates astray -- the usual. Hermione opened her paper and began to read, a fraction of her attention reserved for finding the food on her plate and getting it to her mouth. Breakfast proceeded apace, until Kuwabara's spoon dropped from his hand, clattering into his bowl.  
  
"You guys feel that?" he asked, suddenly pale.  
  
Harry glanced up from his breakfast. "No... feel what?" Ron made an interrogative sound around his own spoon.  
  
"I dunno..." Kuwabara answered, "but I just lost my appetite."  
  
"Somebody's not happy," Yuusuke said, glancing towards the doors of the Great Hall. He set his fork down and flexed his fist, eyes bright. "I'm suddenly not that hungry, either..."  
  
Hiei finished off his pumpkin juice in silence, but somehow Harry got the feeling that his attention was now focused outside.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. He glanced over at the Slytherin table, and up to the dais. Kurama and Professor Genkai seemed unaffected.  
  
The massive double doors swung open, an all-too-familiar figure striding through as they thumped against the walls. His attention fully on the professors' dais, a tall blond man swept down the aisle towards Dumbledore, the picture of cold, righteous indignation.  
  
"Who's that?" Yuusuke asked.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy," Ron said.  
  
Yuusuke gave the man an assessing look. "Huh. For someone who's such a minion, he sure acts like he owns the world."  
  
"Minion?" Hermione repeated, incredulously.  
  
"He reeks of it," Hiei said, stabbing his fork into a couple of kippers and bringing them to his own plate.  
  
"Yeah. There's no mistaking it," Yuusuke agreed.  
  
Ron sniffed. "I don't smell anything..."  
  
Lucius stopped mere inches from the dais, and slammed the silver snake's head of his cane on the table before Dumbledore. "Headmaster Dumbledore." His tone was icy. "Where is my son? And what have you allowed to happen to him?"  
  
Dumbledore set down his teacup. "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," he said coolly. "We've been expecting you. Tea?" Lucius stiffened in outrage. "A pity; the elves have truly outdone themselves this morning. Professor Genkai, would you care to show Mr. Malfoy to the Infirmary, and fill him in on his son's condition?"  
  
The tiny woman circled the table. She and Malfoy eyed each other, until Genkai snorted. "Well, come on then, and I'll tell you what your nitwit son's been up to."  
  
"I'll remind you that I am on the schoolboard... Professor," the blond man said disdainfully. "You should not be referring to any student as a 'nitwit', even discounting the fact that my son is second in his class and, therefore, decidedly not a 'nitwit'." The quotation marks around the word were clearly audible.  
  
"Your son is the only student in this school to behave as stupidly as he has this past week," Genkai snapped. "Congratulations, you've raised a boy with all the sense of a suicidally depressed lemming."  
  
A ripple went through the Great Hall, and both adults' eyes flicked over the student body. Lucius' mouth curled up in a sneer. "This is not the place for this discussion."  
  
"Agreed," Genkai said. She turned and led him back down the aisle.  
  
The doors clanged shut, and the Hall broke out in excited whispers.  
  
"I hate gossip," Yuusuke growled.  
  
****  
  
It was a slow climb out of the silent blackness, but eventually Draco realized he was awake. And sore... he hissed as every bone and muscle in his body suddenly announced their displeasure at being present.  
  
Cloth flapped; a book snapped closed. "So. You're awake." Professor Genkai's voice was cold.  
  
Draco tried to answer. "Nngh..."  
  
"Don't bother. I doubt you'll be up to speaking intelligibly for another hour or so, though you should be capable of opening your eyes."  
  
Oh. That would explain why he couldn't see a thing. He made some effort and managed to crack open an eye. A blur of browns and whites resolved itself into the Infirmary, with the little professor perched on a chair next to his bed.  
  
"The Headmaster wants to speak to you; he should be down soon," Genkai said. "Your father stopped by on Friday; he's most put out with the whole situation, and would like you to know that he expects rapid progress studying with Miss Koorime after you've recovered. Professor Snape has given you an extension on your homework; you may turn it in four days after Madam Pomfrey releases you." She paused, thinking for a moment.  
  
Draco made an interrogative sound. The professor had skipped the most important questions!  
  
"Oh. Yes. You overextended yourself practicing your core magic, and today is Sunday."  
  
S... SUNDAY? He'd been unconscious for four DAYS? ... And he'd overextended himself? Draco frowned. He couldn't possibly have done that. He was Draco Malfoy!  
  
"Don't give me that look, kid. You did it, and you're damn lucky you aren't dead. As it is, you're going to be spending the next several days here," Genkai said decisively. She turned as the infirmary doors creaked open. "Ah, Headmaster. Just in time to prevent me from telling the boy just how much of an idiot he's been."  
  
"My dear professor, I'm sure that Mr. Malfoy is now quite aware of the extent of his foolishness," Dumbledore responded, gesturing for a second chair to pull itself up on the other side of Draco's bed. "Or, if he is not, his long stay here in the Hospital Wing will give him plenty of time to come to grips with it." He sat down heavily, and turned to Draco, his eyes twinkling. "And, of course, the tutoring."  
  
Draco hissed through his teeth, but didn't quite manage to get the syllable right. "Tsuuu..."  
  
"Yes, Malfoy," Genkai said. "Tutoring. With Miss Koorime -- I told you this. Pay attention."  
  
"Speaking of tutoring, Professor, I do believe you have a session?" Dumbledore said pointedly.  
  
"Ah, yes. My favorite dimwit," Genkai said dryly. She hopped down from her chair. "I'll leave you to it, then." She left without a backwards glance.  
  
When the door had creaked closed, Dumbledore turned back to Draco, his face creased into an irritating mix of pity and self-righteousness. "Mr. Malfoy, I'm very relieved that you have suffered no permanent damage." Right, start off with a bald-faced lie. Draco knew perfectly well that Dumbledore couldn't be bothered with anybody of real importance, just with his precious Potter, Gryffindors, and Mudbloods. "I am quite well aware of your opinion of me, however, so I will refrain from too many comforting platitudes." Good. "My visit is primarily to inform you of what your father said and did while he was visiting. He is really quite disappointed that you did not accept Miss Koorime's offer of tutoring, and expects you to remedy that situation directly. Also, he requests that you write to him as soon as you are able, as there are some things he wishes to convey to you which should remain within the family.  
  
"Now, then, I believe Madam Pomfrey is allowing you one last visit." Dumbledore beckoned past the curtain, and Crabbe and Goyle stepped tentatively from behind it, wearing identical expressions of bewildered relief. Draco almost managed to smile at them as the headmaster left. They must've been lost without him to think for them.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle stayed for five minutes (carefully timed to the second by Madam Pomfrey) and delivered several double handfuls of candy, which Draco interpreted as a sign of concern and sympathy. They left before Madam Pomfrey had even looked pointedly at her watch. Then the nurse descended on Draco with a foul-tasting potion, and Draco was asleep before she'd pulled the curtain closed.  
  



	20. Hogsmeade

  
  
  
The next two weeks passed without incident. Draco was released from the Infirmary, and began his tutoring with Yukina. He was a bit sullen about it, but Lucius Had Spoken. Besides, his letter had made threats in regards to Draco's allowance if he was less than exquisitely polite to his tutor, Hufflepuff or not.  
  
Then the first Hogsmeade weekend arrived.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Draco woke up Saturday morning in a Bad Mood. Someone -- he suspected Koorime -- had Madam Pomfrey convinced that Draco wasn't yet well enough to go to Hogsmeade. He sat up, yawning. He felt FINE. Better than ever. This was a conspiracy to make his punishment worse, he knew it. He bloody well got the idea: he'd miscalculated, and now he had to deal with a Hufflepuff tutor. There was no need to take away his Hogsmeade weekend, dammit!  
  
He shoved his bedcurtains aside.  
  
"Good morning, Malfoy," Kurama said, his voice muffled as he pulled a thin white linen shirt over his head.  
  
Draco glared. "Minamino," he acknowledged.  
  
The boy tugged his ponytail free of the shirt, and dug a vibrant green tunic from his trunk. He shook it out and held it up to his front. "What do you think?"  
  
A deep voice answered. "I think you're overly vain."  
  
Draco's head snapped up. He knew that voice! That Gryffindor transfer brat--! In his dorm--! Wasn't Draco being tortured enough already?!  
  
"Flatterer," Kurama accused the boy, perched comfortably and half-hidden on his bed. He turned. "What do you think, Draco?"  
  
"I think I want to know what a Gryffindor is doing here!" Draco blurted.  
  
Kurama shrugged. "Waiting for me to finish getting ready, I suppose," he said, drawing the tunic over his shoulders and buttoning the clasps.  
  
"How. Did. He. Get. IN. Here?" Draco clarified through gritted teeth. That brought a split second hesitation from Kurama, as if he hadn't actually wondered that himself. As if he knew exactly how the brat had gotten in...  
  
"Why do you think I know?" Kurama answered. "He was here when I woke up."  
  
Draco was slightly too familiar with dodging questions to not notice that Kurama hadn't actually answered the question. "I think you know, because I think you gave him the password!" Draco snapped.  
  
Kurama flicked an amused glance over his shoulder. "Oh, that I haven't done."  
  
"Then you let him in!"  
  
A shake of Kurama's head. "Never. It wouldn't be any challenge that way."  
  
"Then who did?!"  
  
The redhead turned to Jaganshi. "Well, Hiei?" he asked, laughter in his voice. "Who let you in?"  
  
Jaganshi stared flatly at the two Slytherins, his arms crossed. "No one."  
  
Draco felt the situation slipping out of his grasp, a sensation with which he was becoming unpleasantly familiar in the last few weeks. "Then how did you get in?" he demanded.  
  
The brat smirked -- smirked! "None of your business," he said obstinately. His gaze snapped to Kurama. "Are you done yet?"  
  
How DARE he ignore Draco? How DARE he brush Draco Malfoy off like that? Draco hissed in outrage.  
  
"Why don't you wait outside, Hiei?" Kurama said unexpectedly.  
  
Hiei raised an eyebrow. "Five minutes. Then I'm leaving."  
  
"Right, right," Kurama answered. Hiei left, and Kurama picked up his hairbrush. "I'm sorry," he said, not taking his eyes from his mirror as he brushed his hair. "Hiei isn't trying to provoke you -- yet -- but he doesn't care about rank, or family name, or any of the social rules you know. It's nothing personal."  
  
"Nothing personal!" Draco echoed.  
  
Kurama regarded him solemnly. "It's not all about you, you know," he said simply. "There are six billion other people in the world, and that's not counting the nonhumans. Hiei's only mildly tolerant of any of them, so why would he treat you any differently?"  
  
"I'm a Malfoy!"  
  
"He doesn't care. If you want him to--"  
  
"I DON'T."  
  
"--prove you're worth the time. Otherwise, he'll ignore and dismiss you, just like he does everyone else. He's going to be here sometimes," Draco sputtered in protest, "so you'll just have to put up with it." Kurama set his brush aside, picked a rose from the potted bush on his nightstand, and tucked it up his sleeve.  
  
"But WHY?" Draco managed, as the other boy headed for the door. Why did Kurama associate with the brat, why did he have to come down here, why did Draco have to give up his Hogsmeade weekend, why wasn't the world functioning as it should, with the Houses at each others' throats, with everyone giving him the respect a Malfoy deserved, with Lucius at the Dark Lord's side rather than his feet, why why why?!  
  
Kurama paused, his hand on the door handle. "Because, Draco," he said almost gently, "that's the way things are."  
  
When the door clicked shut, Draco threw himself on the bed and screamed into his pillow.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione emerged from The Three Broomsticks, full of butterbeer and some candy that Harry had provided. They strolled along the main street of Hogsmeade, idly window-shopping as they wandered towards some of the more frequented shops.  
  
Hermione leaned in casually. "Harry," she said calmly, eyes focused on Honeydukes down the street, "act naturally and don't look around, but we just passed several reporters hiding behind Zonko's." Harry tensed. "I said act natural. Relax. They can't harass any of us; there are underage laws."  
  
"Didn't stop Rita," Harry said.  
  
"I did some research." Big surprise. "Rita had to have had special dispensation to cover the Tournament participants, because they were underage and there *are* laws. Without them, every reporter and photographer in Europe would've been hovering around Diagon Alley the entire month before you started Hogwarts, since you were sure to have to go. And they weren't. It's illegal."  
  
"'Mione, why are you telling me this?"  
  
"Because," she said with a sigh, "they can't come bother you directly, but there's absolutely nothing against taking pictures you happen to be in and such. We're all going to have to be careful not to do anything stupid today. Ooh, the winter fashions are out!" She turned to the display window excitedly.  
  
Ron and Harry exchanged a confused look. Where had *this* come from? "Um, 'Mione," Ron began, "what are you doing?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you want to see the reporters, stand there and pretend you've been dragged shopping with your mother or sister. You should manage that easily enough."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets, turned away slightly, and started uncomfortably scanning the street. "Which ones-- oh." There were a half-dozen adults hiding on this side of a building down the street, telltale Quick-Quotes Quills and parchment floating near them, some holding cameras. One of the photographers had his pointing at Harry already.  
  
Ron stepped over, conveniently blocking the man's line-of-sight. "Wonder what they're here for, if they can't bug you," he murmured.  
  
"Nice move. But as for why they're here, how about--" The reporters suddenly exploded into action, mobbing a small figure in the street. "--that." Hermione turned at the noise, and the teens (along with every other student within earshot) watched and listened shamelessly.  
  
"Professor Genkai! Ruma Monga, Time-Turner. How do you respond to allegations that you're teaching questionable magic without parental consent?"  
  
"Professor Genkai! Pavit Razi, The Daily Prophet. You've brought your own students to Hogwarts, does this mean you don't believe Harry Potter's claims regarding You-Know-Who?"  
  
"Professor Genkai! Tatel Tayle, The Quibbler. Is it true that your chosen heir is the son of a prostitute and a yak farmer?"  
  
Genkai snorted at this. "No comment, no comment, and try buying a real translation charm."  
  
"Professor! How do you--"  
  
"What do you--"  
  
"Tell us--"  
  
"Inquiring minds--"  
  
Genkai shoved her way through the mob towering over her, ignoring the questions and flashing bulbs as she continued down the street.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Ranks of glass jars were stacked ten high, from knee height to above Kurama's head, shelf after shelf gleaming in the sun. All were filled to capacity with gobs of shining red, fuzzy blue, foggy white and pink and yellow, rainbow-swirls and blocky stripes, near-black brown and golden tan, shimmering green and glossy violet, and colors Kurama wasn't entirely sure were supposed to exist. Thirteen-year-olds squealed and yelled greedily all around him; older students jostled and shoved, fighting the third-years for space at the shelves.  
  
Kurama was trapped in Honeydukes, and he was quickly losing his appetite. He didn't dislike sweets, but too much was too much! The sheer amount of sugar and heavy Western flavorings he could smell was overwhelming. The masses of students were irritating his youko side with every bump; he was sure half the school was packed into this shop right now, and was suppressing his instinct to shove every shopper (pickpocket! killer!) away. But what was most worrying right now... he'd lost Hiei in this crowd.  
  
"Hiei!" he called. "Doko desu ka? Hiei!"  
  
The crowd parted for a split second, and Kurama caught sight of the demon. He pushed through to Hiei's side. "Can we please leav-- what on earth?" Kurama's eyes flew wide as he caught sight of Hiei's cloak, currently serving as an improvised sack. "Hiei, do you have any idea how much this much candy costs?!"  
  
A disdainful snort: possibly 'I don't care, I'm not paying anyway', possibly 'take any of it and I'll hurt you'.  
  
Kurama shoved aside any thought of Hiei actually eating all the sweets in his cloak, shuddering slightly. His teeth ached at the thought. "I know how much money you have on you," he said, focusing on the allowances Genkai had given each of them in Diagon Alley. Unless Hiei had brought or stolen more... "Put. Some. Back."  
  
Hiei shot him a deadly glare. "Go. Bug. Genkai."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Ron's brothers descended upon Harry, Ron, and Hermione outside of Dervish & Banges.  
  
"Ronniekins!" Fred greeted them, grinning broadly.  
  
"Little brother!"  
  
"Favorite Keeper!"  
  
"Think fast!"  
  
Fred tossed a small pouch at Ron, who caught it reflexively. He promptly yelped in horror and dropped it. It fell to the cobblestones with a cheerful jingling sound.  
  
"What did you do to it?" he asked, eyeing his hands warily. "Am I going to turn blue or something?"  
  
George bent to pick up the pouch. "Ronniekins--"  
  
"Don't call me that."  
  
"-- we're hurt!" Fred continued, putting a hand over his heart. "We would *never* pull a prank on you--" All three 5th-years snorted.  
  
"-- in such a crude and obvious manner," George finished. He waggled the pouch at Ron, the contents chiming. "This is official business."  
  
"No Keeper of ours is playing on a *school* broom."  
  
Ron's eyes flew wide, and he snatched the pouch away, yanking the drawstring open. Harry peered over his shoulder, seeing Galleons and a few Sickles inside.  
  
"Where did you get this?" Hermione asked. Ron gave a faint, squeaky grunt expressing similar sentiment. "Have you been selling to the underclassmen again?" she asked sternly.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Not for this!"  
  
"It's all from catalog sales!"  
  
"And bank interest, of course."  
  
Ron's mouth worked soundlessly through this, but now he managed to echo, "Interest?"  
  
Fred brushed the question off with a casual wave, as George caught Ron and Harry by the wrists. "Don't worry about it," Fred said. George towed the pair towards the Quidditch shop, Hermione walking alongside. "Just don't pick a Firebolt, okay?"  
  
They entered the Quidditch shop, and froze.  
  
"I said back OFF, man!" Yuusuke shouted into a reporter's face. The stunned man's Quick-Quotes Quill scribbled eagerly over the parchment above them.  
  
"Yuusuke, I said ignore them!" Genkai snapped. The Quill scribbled more, and Yuusuke yanked the parchment out from under it, the Quill following the sheet indignantly. Yuusuke caught it with his free hand.  
  
"The sloe-dark eyes of Professor Genkai's young, hot-tempered protege burn like hellfire," Yuusuke read, "as he rages at your diligent, hardworking reporters-- what sort of crap IS this?"  
  
Botan snitched the quill from Yuusuke's fist before he could crush it. "I think the pen's got a crush on you!" she teased.  
  
"IT BLOODY WELL DOES NOT!"  
  
The twins edged closer to Harry and Ron. "Um... we could come back later," George murmured to them.  
  
"No," Harry said, before he could think. The others gave him odd looks. "They can't do anything to us. I'm not going to hide from them." Not that he was speaking loud enough for the reporters to hear over their own din. He wasn't stupid.  
  
Silence. Then... "Right you are," Fred agreed, speaking at the same low volume. "They can't intimidate us. We're Gryffs."  
  
They edged around a rack of broom-repair kits until they were blocked from the reporters' view. Ron breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to the racks of brooms. "Okay, no Firebolts, you said."  
  
Soon, the Weasleys were embroiled in a discussion of the relative merits of various older-model brooms, trying to figure out which would be best for a Keeper in general, and Ron in particular. Meanwhile, on the other side of the shop, the reporters' troubles continued.  
  
"The Meteor's turns are too slow--" ("Hey-- stop! Do you know how much this equipment costs?!" A sharp click. "My film! You've ruined it!")  
  
"-- pretty fast broom, though nothing like a Firebolt--" ("Professor, have you no control over your student?!")  
  
"-- decent for a Chaser --" (A snort. "No comment.")  
  
"-- but Ronniekins isn't a Chaser, wot. The Nimbus 2001, now--" ("Is this how you conduct your classes?!")  
  
"-- is what the Slytherins have," Harry pointed out. ("We aren't in school," Genkai replied.)  
  
Fred nodded. "So we're NOT getting it." (The muffled thunk of wood against flesh, and the clatter of another camera hitting the floor. "Oops!" Botan yelped. "I'm so sorry! It's so small in here-- are you okay?")  
  
The door to the shop opened with a nearly unheard jingle of the bell over the door.  
  
"What about this, uh, 'Comet'?" Hermione asked. ("Professor!" It was Kurama, and he sounded... miffed.)  
  
"'Mione, Comets are old! They're slow!" ("Hiei has half the candy store bundled in his cloak, and he will not put any of it back.")  
  
"They're well-priced and have a great turning radius," Hermione pointed out. ("And what do you expect me to do about it?" Genkai asked acidly.)  
  
"Okay, Hermione, quick practical in broom facts," Fred said. ("Give us more money so he can pay," Kurama replied sharply.)  
  
"Here's a Comet, and here's a Cleansweep. Look at the twigs here, see how the Comet's are cut? Makes it bushier." ("Why, Kurama, are you asking for a LOAN?" Genkai sounded amused.)  
  
George cut in. "That creates drag. Makes the Comet both slower and harder to turn at high speeds." (Kurama's voice was cold. "I prefer to think of it as a charitable donation to the "Keep Hiei Out Of Trouble" fund.")  
  
"Actually, I rather like that Cleansweep," Ron said. (A puff of amusement, and the jingle of coins. "It's almost worth it just to see you all huffy.")  
  
"Hm... the 11?" Fred asked. "Doesn't get all that much speed--" (A hiss, and a few seconds later the door to the shop slammed shut.  
  
"But it doesn't need that much," George continued. "And it's got great acceleration and braking--" ("You shouldn't bait him like that, old hag," Yuusuke said.)  
  
"-- and it's bloody brilliant with flips and turns," Ron finished. ("I'm an old woman," Genkai replied. "It keeps me on my toes.")  
  
"It's yours, then," the twins chorused. ("Whatever," Yuusuke grumbled. "It's your lifespan.")  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Back at the castle, Draco stormed back to the Slytherin dungeons from lunch. He'd been the ONLY upperclassman left, stuck with hordes of first- and second-years. They'd all been peeking at him throughout the perfectly dull and ordinary meal -- damn House Elves could've had some consideration and at least made his favorites, but noooo -- and the brats from the other Houses had been snickering at his humiliation.  
  
He'd done everything there was to do in the castle that didn't involve teachers or the brats (which was approximately nothing, since he knew the castle and didn't have to explore it anymore), and had resigned himself to reading the books Koorime had given him the day before. 'If you could read the first chapters of each before our next session, please...', she'd said. So now he snatched up the two books and made himself comfortable on the windowsill, and nobly suffered the indignity of losing his Hogsmeade weekend and being reduced to-- homework.  
  
Several pages of dull text expounding on the dangers and limitations of core magic later, a sentence caught his attention.  
  
Overextension is the most common cause of death in core magic practitioners, and the most easily prevented.  
  
He hadn't even been injured in a unique or boast-worthy manner.  
  
Draco threw the book across the room.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the sandwich shop, munching on Cornish pasties. They were loaded down with parcels that Hermione couldn't or hadn't yet shrunk -- Ron's broom, a number of collected essays and spellbooks for Hermione, a new cloak for Harry, whose old one was two inches too short now, more pasties, and a couple bags of their favorites from Honeyduke's and Zonko's.  
  
They made their way towards the Shrieking Shack; always a favorite for Hogwarts students, it offered a bit of privacy and quiet in the grassy hollows near it. Considering the reporters infesting the town proper, the three of them were glad for this.  
  
Harry spread his old cloak on the ground, and they dumped their parcels and plopped onto it with a collective sigh of relief.  
  
"Ugh," Ron moaned, flopping onto his back. "I swear, that Witches' Weekly photographer was everywhere -- how many times did we block her shot?"  
  
"I dunno," Harry murmured. "But thanks."  
  
"It wouldn't be so bad if this wasn't their first shot," Hermione offered. "And they didn't have Genkai as an excuse. It'll get better."  
  
"It'd better!" Ron muttered, rolling over. "Or-- um, guys?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"We're really sure we lost the reporters, right?"  
  
Hermione glanced back towards town. "Yes."  
  
"Good." He paused, then with a certain stiffly faked nonchalance, said, "Guess who's here?"  
  
"Who--" Several hundred pounds of muscle and black fur bowled Harry over onto his back, knocking his glasses askew.  
  
"Snuffles!" Hermione cheered, as a cold, wet nose poked Harry under his ear. Harry yelped at the shock, and the massive dog bounced off Harry and began dancing around the teenagers, tail wagging madly.  
  
"Snuffles!" Harry echoed, rolling to his knees. He threw his arms around the dog's neck, ruffling his fingers through the thickly-furred scruff. Sirius submitted to this, scraping a paw along Harry's side in the closest imitation to a human hug his limbs were suited for, then pulled away. He padded a few steps away, glanced back, and whuffed in a clear invite.  
  
The teens gathered up their things and followed.  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
From his perch hidden in the shadows of the Shack's chimney, Hiei watched the three students and the dog slip off towards the hills. His eyes narrowed. The Potter kid had to know he was too damn tempting a target to go wandering off like this.  
  
And the dog was acting entirely too intelligent to be one.  
  
He tucked his bag of candy against the chimney for safekeeping, and darted into the treetops to follow them.  
  
-0-0-0--  
  
Deep in the hills, Harry, Ron, and Hermione crawled after Snuffles through a tiny cave mouth. Inside the cavern, they straightened, dusting off their robes as the dog stretched and shifted into a man. Harry grinned at him.  
  
"Sirius!" The man was thin, filthy, and grinning with a hint of the impossible teenager Padfoot must've been. "What are you doing here?" Harry asked, thrilled that his godfather was and yet a bit upset -- Sirius looked half-starved and was nowhere near safe here.  
  
Sirius Black enveloped Harry in a quick, dog- and grime-smelling hug, before backing off with a lopsided grin. "I'll tell you, but first... I don't suppose you could spare a poor, old fugitive with one of those nice Cornish pasties I smell, could you?"  
  
Ron passed over the bag. Sirius grabbed one and chomped into it, humming happily. "Thanks," he mumbled through the food, letting himself fall to sit on the floor of the cave. "Nothing like fresh food -- mark my words, never complain about it, it's the best stuff in the world."  
  
The three of them lowered themselves to sit near him-- not within smelling distance, though -- as he polished off the first and went for another.  
  
"Sirius, why?" Hermione asked. "You could be living with Professor Lupin, or someplace... didn't Professor Dumbledore give you anywhere?"  
  
"Mmph... sure he did, very nice place, three hot meals and a bath a day, but I said nothin' doin'. I would have to stay inside... cooped up under Fidelius... after Azkaban, ha." Chew, chew, swallow. "Merlin himself could've told me it was better, and I would've told him to-- er--" he glanced at Hermione, and changed what he was going to say, "-- stick it in his ear. And Remus is the first place that rat would look for me. 'E's under Fidelius, I've got no clue who's the Keeper, but he doesn't mind a bit. Said as long as he had plenty to read... and he does!" He grinned. "So he's happy, and I'm happy, and when's your first Quidditch match?"  
  
-0-0-0--  
  
Kurama led Neville down a side street of Hogsmeade, having separated him from his friends. (Mostly -- today they were being shadowed by a Hufflepuff, one of Hiei's weapons students. Kurama was half-tempted to lose the boy in the crowds, but if it made Neville less nervous to have someone making sure the 'eeeevil Slytherin' didn't get him, Kurama could deal.)  
  
"Neville, I want to introduce you to a Plant Master's favorite store," Kurama said, smiling up at his student and pretending he hadn't noticed their damn shadow. "Not counting the fields and forests of the worlds."  
  
"... this is a garden shop."  
  
"Exactly." Kurama took Neville by the arm, pushing the door open with his free hand. "I need to replenish my supplies, and you're progressing wonderfully." He would normally never say such a thing -- it was creepy to smother people in praise, though Kurama wasn't sure if that was true here -- but Neville would wilt under anything harsher. That would be counterproductive. He continued, "You're doing very well with mosses and ferns, and I think we can start you on grasses soon." Kurama nodded a polite greeting at the woman behind the counter. "Now, we can find all those up at the school, along with wildflowers if I look hard enough, but we just may be able to start Muggle garden-variety flowers before our next Hogsmeade weekend. We'll get those here."  
  
"Um... flowers?" Neville echoed, as Kurama found racks of seed packets.  
  
"Late November, I would guess, if you continue at this rate." Kurama selected several packets, and held one up for Neville to see. "What do you think of violets?"  
  
"I-- I--" Neville's hands clenched. "I think I get picked on enough without flowers!"  
  
Kurama's jaw dropped. Oops -- he'd forgotten to consider the effect of mixing teenage boys and flowers. His eyes went flat, and he caught Neville firmly by the chin. "If anyone harrasses you," he narrowly avoided hissing, "tell them they can come say the same things to me, if they have the guts. You are my student and I won't tolerate such treatment."  
  
Neville trembled under his fingers. Shit... Kurama might've just undone all his work on gaining the teenager's trust and building his confidence. He gently let Neville go, but the boy didn't stumble away. He simply stood, frozen, eyes wide. Kurama wasn't quite sure what this meant -- had he scared the boy past any ability to run?  
  
"I apologize if I've upset you," Kurama said carefully.  
  
Neville's mouth worked. "Did... did you mean it?"  
  
... that wasn't 'you didn't really mean that'. It was perhaps a positive sign. "Yes," Kurama answered simply, gambling on the possibility.  
  
"Would you even... if it was Malfoy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh." Kurama waited, still not sure if he'd damaged his student's ease with him beyond repair. After a few uncertain moments, Neville took the seed packet from Kurama's hand, and managed a small smile. "Violets sound fine."  
  
Whew, Kurama thought, as they began selecting other packets. His slip had apparently done more good than harm, this time. Neville relaxed far more than he ever had before, and started to offer up his own suggestions. He had a surprisingly good instinct regarding Kurama's curriculum, picking small, hardy garden flowers like dandelions and geraniums, and avoiding vines, delicate flowers like orchids, and all the fruits and bushes. He did skitter away from the roses, though.  
  
Soon, they had more than enough seeds, and had added a bag of potting soil and some pots to their purchases. Kurama paid with what was left of the extra money he'd gotten for Hiei's candy, the shopkeeper put their packages in a charmed carryall bag for convenience, and they left the shop.  
  
Fox. Get out here, Hiei's voice whispered into Kurama's mind. Kurama casually checked his watch.  
  
"It's almost time for me to meet Hiei," he said, as if they'd actually had that planned (they hadn't). "Do six square centimeters of the club moss and three of fern tonight, and I'll see you in school?"  
  
"Okay," Neville answered. Kurama waved goodbye, then headed off towards the Shrieking Shack -- that was probably where Hiei had taken his candy. Where are you? he telepathed back, once he was safely away from the crowds in town.  
  
The answer came as a precise image, similar to both a map and a movie clip, showing a route past the Shack. Hiei was high in a tree near no path of any sort, deep in the wooded hills. It didn't take long for Kurama to reach it, and he looked up into it, seeing no sign of the fire demon.  
  
"I'm here," he said unnecessarily.  
  
"Come up."  
  
"Why?"  
  
A shadow high in the branches moved. "Because you can't see it from the ground."  
  
Kurama raised an eyebrow, leapt to the first branch, and climbed to Hiei's level. When he reached the right branch, he didn't have to ask -- Hiei pointed silently across the narrow hollow. Kurama squinted, seeing more trees, a creek, the side of the hill... "What?"  
  
"The shadow near the wide part of the stream. It's a cave." Ah... Kurama could see it, now that he knew what he was looking for. It was a low hole, half-hidden by dying underbrush and easily mistaken for a shadowed overhang. "Potter, Weasley, and Granger followed a dog in there."  
  
Kurama's gaze snapped sharply to Hiei. "A dog?"  
  
"Something pretending to be a dog. It looked like one, acted like one -- almost -- but was far too smart to be a dog. And those three can't be dumb enough to follow any mere animal into the forest with Voldemort on the loose."  
  
Kurama turned back to eye the cave. "You can't look with your Jagan?"  
  
Hiei shook his head. "They might not notice, but the dog-thing... I don't know its capabilities. Using the Jagan could easily be as noticeable as turning a searchlight on the creature."  
  
"Ah... and you also can't risk getting closer, in case it has a dog's sense of smell." It wasn't a question. Hiei didn't smell human, though he was starting to have lingering hints of a generalized scent of human teenager, simply from living at Hogwarts. "You want me to try." That wasn't a question, either.  
  
"Can you?"  
  
"I don't know," Kurama admitted. "If it has a dog's sense of smell, it'll notice something's off. It may not be able to tell just what, but it will notice."  
  
Hiei thought for a moment, considering the cave mouth. "What if you weren't human?"  
  
"What--" Kurama's jaw dropped, as his mind supplied the answer to his instinctive question. "Hiei, I can't make the change voluntarily yet."  
  
"Damn," Hiei muttered.  
  
Kurama thought for a moment. "If the trio make it back to town safely, I think I have an idea..."  
  
-0-0-0--  
  
That evening, Botan's owl flew away from Hogwarts, a single, small letter tied to its leg.  
  
 _Suzuki-san,_  
  
 _Circumstances have left me in need of the recipe for Potion of Past Life. Please send it via this owl, as that is the custom of postal service here._  
  
 _Payment is, of course, enclosed._  
  
 _Regards,_  
  
 _Kurama_


	21. Life is Like...

  
  
A week after Kurama had sent his letter, he recieved a reply. Botan's owl swooped in at breakfast with the rest of the owls, a medium-sized package tied to its leg. It landed at Kurama's plate, knocking his (thankfully empty) mug of tea over and pecking at his bacon. Kurama used his knife to push the bacon from his plate, letting the owl have it, and took the package.  
  
It was a box, about the size of a shoebox, though somewhat flatter, and Kurama couldn't figure out why the information he wanted would need to be boxed. He slipped the accompanying letter from under the strings of the parcel, and opened it.  
  
  
 _Kurama-san -_  
  
 _I am most delighted to hear from you. Your request was quite intriguing, but the potion takes a full month to brew. It may be presumptuous on my part, but I gathered that you may require it sooner than that, so I took the liberty of including a few doses._  
  
 _The box contains chocolates. The spheres are fakes; they contain your potion. The large, oblong one in the corner is the seed required for the final step, and is reuseable. Take care to wash all traces of the chocolate from it, or the results will not be pleasant. The remaining chocolates are normal, Muggle chocolates._  
  
 _The recipe itself is the second page of this letter._  
  
 _Should you encounter any difficulties, further premade doses cost twenty Makai gaigane each._  
  
 _Regards,_  
  
 _Suzuki_  
  
  
Kurama raised an eyebrow, unwrapped the parcel, and lifted the lid off the box. An assortment of pretty little chocolates met his eye. And the eyes of the nearest Slytherins at the table.  
  
"What's that?" Draco asked snidely. "Secret admirer?"  
  
"Oh, no," Kurama answered easily. "This is from home. One of my colleagues is a potionsmaker. I beta-test his creations." The lie was almost too easy -- the Weasley twins were such GOOD inspiration -- but it should keep sneaky little Slytherin hands out of his chocolates, and away from the real potion. Just in case, he plucked a flat one from the box and pretended to consult the second page of the letter. "This one should turn all my joints the opposite direction. Or poison me, but I can neutralize that." He flicked a smile towards Draco. "Care to try it?"  
  
"No!" Draco all but yelped.  
  
Kurama chuckled. "I thought not." He put the chocolate back in the box, and closed it once more. He'd seen what he needed to. Nearly half the box held round balls of chocolate, decorated differently. There should be two or three doses, total, once he'd extracted the liquid from them.  
  
How convenient.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry tickled the painted pear, and the portrait swung open obediently. He stepped into the chaos of the Hogwarts kitchens, slightly worse than usual in the aftermath of breakfast. Thousands of dirty dishes were piled on countertops and tables, awaiting their turn at the House Elves' bath-sized sinks.  
  
A rather harried-looking elf popped up in front of Harry before he'd managed to take more than a couple of steps into the room. It peered up at him, then raised an eyebrow ruefully. "Harry Potter. Is lookings for Dobby, yes?"  
  
Harry smiled a bit sheepishly. He must've been down here a bit too often. "Well, if he's not too busy," he answered.  
  
The elf nodded, then signaled curtly across the room. One, half-buried under a stack of freshly-washed pans, set them aside and popped over to beam up at Harry. Harry bit his lip, trying not to laugh.  
  
Today, Dobby was wearing a tie-dyed Tshirt that came to his knees, five mismatched socks (three on one foot, two on the other), and an oddly shapeless cap, with two holes cut for his ears. He had also evidently discovered belts at some point, and had a gold, jangling lady's belt draped like a sash over one shoulder.  
  
"Harry Potter! How is you today?" Dobby's belt-sash chimed with his happiness, and he glanced behind Harry. "And Harry Potter's Wheezy, and-- and Harry Potter's-- er, other friend." The belt fell silent as Dobby stilled nervously.  
  
"Hello, Dobby," Harry said. The elf turned his focus back to Harry with a slight bit of relief. "We're all doing well. How are you?"  
  
"Oh, Dobby is doing most well, sir! Dobby is working most hard, and he is buyings many socks and things!" He leaned in close, glancing at the other elves (who were pointedly ignoring the little group). "Dobby is even havings tab at The Three Broomsticks! Mistress Rosmertas is telling Dobby to calls her Rosy!"  
  
Harry grinned. "Sounds like you're doing great." He paused. "Listen, Dobby... we need a favor."  
  
"Anything for Harry Potter!"  
  
"Well... we aren't hungry, but we need some food. Things that keep well and don't need to be cooked... meat would be good."  
  
Dobby nodded happily, his belt jangling. "No problems! Would Harry Potter be likings a basket to carry it in?"  
  
Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione. Hermione nodded. "A bag would be good, actually. I can do a carryall charm, and we can send Crookshanks."  
  
"But--" Harry started. He wanted to see Sirius! He could use the tunnel under the Whomping Willow or the one in the one-eyed witch's statue... and no one could follow him if he used his Invisibility Cloak...  
  
"It's safer, Harry," Hermione said firmly.  
  
"Dobby is gettings it for Harry Potter, then!" Dobby said, darting away. A whirlwind of motion later -- still rather pointedly ignored by the rest of the elves -- and Dobby offered up a large burlap potato sack to them.  
  
Harry took the sack gratefully. "Thank you, Dobby."  
  
"Anytime, sir!" Dobby chirped.  
  
They left.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Mr. Minamino."  
  
Kurama paused in the hallway, glancing over his shoulder as Snape descended upon him. What does he want now? Kurama thought. I'm busy -- or will be in a few minutes. "Sir?" he asked politely. Hm... more pale than he should be, no scent of illness like that first day we met, but a slightly-too-deep wrinkling about the eyes and mouth... he's either furious or terrified, and probably both. And I think this isn't his classroom theatrics.  
  
"What is this about recieving experimental potions in the mail?"  
  
"Experi-- what, these?" Kurama pulled the box of chocolates from the pocket of his robes, mind racing. Why was he surprised that someone had gone tattling? He hadn't even really intended or threatened to test anything on other students, and the Weasley twins got away with it... oh well. "It's a gift from my mother. They're harmless; I just don't want to share."  
  
Snape frowned. "I'm afraid I can't risk taking your word for it, Minamino. I will have to confiscate that."  
  
If he did that, Kurama would lose his potion AND Snape would get his hands on it. Unacceptable. "No, Professor."  
  
The man's hand twitched closer to his wand. "Must I remind you who is in charge here, Minamino? Give. Me. The. Box."  
  
Kurama pivoted into a run. "Sorry, but no!" he yelled over his shoulder, whipping around a corner before Snape could fully draw his wand on him.  
  
"Accio box!" Snape yelled after him. The box jerked in Kurama's hands, and with hardly a thought, he flipped it open and poured the candies into his pocket. Then he let it go, and it sailed off behind him.  
  
Ooh. He was getting an idea. He ran a hand through his hair, still running, and extracted a seed. He sent his magic into it and shoved the growing vine into his pocket.  
  
"Mobilicorpus!" came from behind him. Kurama dived into a roll, ducking the spell, and slammed through a door: the outer door to his target courtyard. The movement flowed smoothly back into a run, and he darted across the courtyard, towards the Whomping Willow.  
  
The door crashed open behind him. "Minamino!" Snape shouted, his tone snapping from fury to horror in the four syllables. "Stop now, you fool! The tree--!"  
  
A branch smashed into the ground directly before Kurama -- just as he'd commanded -- and he ran up it as if it was a sidewalk. Snape's yell turned into a strangled choke behind him, as the Willow's branches lifted high off the ground and twisted, cocooning Kurama safely away from the professor.  
  
"Go AWAY, Professor!" Kurama yelled down through a tiny gap between branches.  
  
"Minamino, what--!" Snape sounded almost incoherent with shock. Good. "Immobulus!" Shoot. Bad. The tree couldn't move on its own now. Before Snape could charm the branches to move apart on their own and allow line-of-sight to Kurama, Kurama used his own power to swipe a branch warningly at Snape. Then he got to work on his spur-of-the-moment trick, as Snape began to throw more charms at the tree.  
  
Kurama worked quickly, slicing open the round chocolates with a leaf blade. Inside, he found smaller balls, one per chocolate, made of a substance similar to an eggshell. He carefully placed these in another pocket of his robes. Once he'd emptied all the round candies of their contents, he took the vine from his pocket. It had borne fruit while he was running, and he inserted the sticky Makai berries into the spaces where the egglike capsules had been.  
  
The chocolate-covered seed joined the capsules, and Kurama allowed his attention back to Snape's spellcasting. The professor had made it up to hexes while Kurama was working.  
  
"All RIGHT!" Kurama called out. "Stop attacking the tree! I'll give you the candy, just STOP IT!"  
  
Silence.  
  
After a cautious second, Kurama let the branches open a bit. He took a scarf from his pocket, poured the candies in, and tossed it out.  
  
"Minamino, get out here. Now. You have detention."  
  
Kurama was NOT in a mood to be ordered about. Snape was a damn suspicious bastard and Kurama was quite glad he was the Potions teacher right now, as opposed to someone without the skill to check the candy. "Professor. You attempted to steal a perfectly harmless gift from my mother, then attempted to hex me. You may give me detention if you discover that your suspiscions were correct, but until then -- I consider myself to have been acting in self-defense. Don't make me go to the Headmaster."  
  
"Oh, I won't, Minamino." Snape's voice was tight and cold. "I will be bringing the matter to his attention myself."  
  
"Go right ahead," Kurama replied. "I'm sure he'll expect an apology when nothing comes of this." That should be enough to have Snape checking the candies before taking the matter to Dumbledore. When he found nothing, he would keep quiet and nurse his resentment, rather than apologize.  
  
Snape stormed off.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
From a window near a side entrance to the castle, Harry, Hermione, and Ron watched Crookshanks run off into the Forest, in the oddly effective 'I'm not doing anything that's any of your business' manner that cats had. The sack Dobby had filled for them was invisible at this distance, shrunk and tied to Crookshanks' collar with a charm that would disappear when Sirius opened the bag.  
  
Harry turned away from the window with a sigh. He still wanted to go...  
  
"It's for the best, Harry," Hermione said gently.  
  
"I know," Harry answered. "Still..." He shrugged. He didn't want to talk about it. He knew the whole sequence: complaint (him), reasonable correcting (Hermione), grumbling (him and Ron), lecture (Hermione), put-upon sighing and head nodding and agreement to get the lecture over with (him and Ron), change of subject.  
  
They were getting very predictable.  
  
The side door slammed open, and Snape stormed in, nearly bowling the three over in a swirl of robes. "Watch where you're going, Potter," he snapped distractedly, not bothering to stop. "And two points from Gryffindor for being in the way!"  
  
The three stared after him in shock. That was... weird.  
  
"What's got his knickers in a twist?" Ron asked.  
  
"It was outside," Hermione said, stepping over to the door and peering curiously past it. "I don't see anybody..."  
  
Harry looked over her shoulder. "There's nothing out here but the Willow."  
  
They stared for a moment more. A single brown leaf skittered across the empty path, its faint, dry rustle almost loud in the empty courtyard. Finally, they shrugged, backed away, and closed the door.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The three students shut the door, and Kurama relaxed. He turned to the vine in his hand, reaching through it with his power. He dialed up the sensitivity on one particular lens, and oddly stark shapes appeared on the leaf monitor of his spyeye. The view panned over hundreds upon hundreds of jars, most holding unidentifiable shadows of something -- the light in Snape's office wasn't enough to make anything but the jars and their labels clearly visible, even at the maximum light sensitivity of a spyeye. But Kurama didn't need to see the actual contents.  
  
A gentle nudging with his magic, and the view zoomed in and began panning methodically across the shelves. Kurama's translation charm provided kanji for the strange words on the labels.  
  
Doppelg (two-something; the word wasn't complete enough to provide more kanji, and Kurama couldn't compromise his spyeye to turn the jar), Doppler (weather-next-see), Doxycide (faerie-kill)... these were completed potions, not ingredients. Kurama was looking in the wrong part of the room. He flipped the view to the other side of the room, and found the ingredients section.  
  
His reciepe listed "two-horn antler powder" and "tree-snake skin" (Dispholidus typus, this item alone written carefully in roman lettering)... and neither was under the "T" section. Kurama checked the D's for the snake skin, and found it absent as well. He sighed, and panned back to the A's to work through the ingredient shelves the long way. Translation problems again -- Snape didn't use Muggle scientific names, and Suzuka's kanji didn't include English pronunciations.  
  
Abyssinian shrivelfig (shrink-fruit), aconite/wolfsbane (wolf-ban), A.O.dragon eggshell; Ashwinder egg, frozen (fire-snake-egg, ice); asphodel (taste-lily); beetles: black, common, dung, Japanese, and scarab; belladonna/deadly nightshade (beauty-lady/die-night-dark-plant), bezoar (goat-stone), bicorn horn (two-horn antler)...  
  
"There's one," Kurama murmured to himself. Odd word, 'bicorn'. The view continued, Kurama's charm providing more kanji. Bile: armadillo, bat, frog, goat, oppossum, quolla, rat, snake; billywig stings; boomslang skin (tree-snake-skin). "And the other," Kurama finished with satisfaction, pulling his power back in. Snape had both ingredients in stock.  
  
But Kurama wouldn't take them today. No. He had more groundwork to do first, to pull off a proper theft.  
  
He was so glad Snape was going to be the victim.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"I think that's enough for the night, Malfoy," Yukina said softly, fairly late on Monday evening.  
  
Draco frowned at his crystal, the hexagonal pillar slightly off from straight and the color not quite perfectly clear. "I can do this," he grumbled.  
  
Yukina lifted her own crystal -- ice, not rock -- from the table and stood. "You're doing quite well as it is," she told him, as she took it to a charmed icebox on the wall and set it inside with the rest. "There's no need for perfection at this stage." Behind her back, Draco sneered and mouthed the next words with her. "We're just building up your strength."  
  
Merlin, if he'd heard that once he'd heard it a hundred times over the past couple of weeks. When were they going to get past stupid cheap-glass cubes and spheres and pillars, and get to the real stuff? Draco's dreams of costly gems and diamond blades -- and the occasional spell component, if necessary -- were not being realized.  
  
Yukina continued to move around the room, putting out the candles one by one. "Please read the next chapter each of Crystals and Crystalline Gems, and To The Core: A Discussion of Deeper Magicks. Also, if you would, please do three cubic -- um -- inches of quartz per day, any of the basic shapes, and a one-inch sphere of amethyst on Thursday and Friday." She doused the last candle, except for the one on the table, and bowed to him. "And I will see you next week."  
  
"Whatever."


	22. Halloween

  
  
The next day -- or, rather, evening -- a side door near the Gryffindor table creaked open. Hiei's eyes shot to it on instinct, and he watched as Keiko peeked through. Her gaze flitted upwards to the carved pumpkins that had replaced the usual candles. Hiei understood the sentiment behind that -- weird.  
  
She looked up at the dais, then at the Ravenclaw table, then slipped through the door and hurriedly squeezed in across the table from Hiei, between Hermione and Yuusuke.  
  
"Yukimura!" Hermione hissed, glancing up at the professors' table. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Shh! I don't want to get caught!"  
  
Yuusuke grinned and nudged the Ravenclaw. "La~ate! Tsk tsk! Next you'll be... skipping classes! I have taught you well, Padawan!"  
  
Pada-what? Hiei wondered.  
  
Keiko glared Yuusuke into submission, and he offered up a sheepish grin. "For your information, I was in the library," she told him.  
  
"I take it back. You're just as bad as ever."  
  
A movement at the corner of Hiei's eye brought his attention back to the professors' dais. Dumbledore had stood, an oddly gleeful smile on his face, and dinner appeared.  
  
Hiei blinked.  
  
The spread was somewhat more elaborate than usual, and there was a definite theme tonight. Pumpkin juice, pumpkin pie, pumpkin pasties... even pumpkin soup in a bowl made from smaller, hollowed-out gourds. The meats were artfully displayed in bat and cat silhouettes, and the potatoes and the small bowls of rice were dyed orange.  
  
Hiei stared at his orange rice in complete incomprehension. He wasn't entirely sure it could, or should, be eaten. It would be collossally stupid to use a poison that was such a bright, obvious color... but it would be equally stupid to eat the stuff because you assumed that it was too obvious to be poison. And too much reasoning along those lines would give him a headache pretty quickly.  
  
He gave a covert glance across the table. Yuusuke and Keiko looked just as leery of the orange rice as Hiei did, though Kuwabara was cheerfully eating it.  
  
"This is just..." Keiko began. "This... it... rice isn't supposed to be orange. Not like this. This isn't right."  
  
"This is weird," Yuusuke muttered. "The whole friggin' day has been weird." He glanced up at the floating jack-o-lanterns that had replaced the usual candles.  
  
"Pumpkins in every class... pumpkins in the air..."  
  
"Is it some sort of National Pumpkin Day or what?"  
  
By now, the nearest Gryffindors were staring at them in some surprise. "Didn't anyone tell you...?" Hermione asked. "It's Halloween."  
  
"What's that?" Yuusuke asked.  
  
"It's a Western holiday," Keiko answered automatically. "Although... I don't understand. Pumpkins?"  
  
"Used to symbolize the end of the harvest," Hermione answered, also automatically. A faint jolt of notice! went through Hiei's mind, before the girl continued, "You've just been going about all day without any idea we were celebrating?"  
  
"Um, yes?"  
  
Hiei ignored the resulting clamor of overly-helpful Gryffindors eager to bring them up to speed. He also ignored the treats and pumpkin whatevers being piled up on his plate by his dormmates.  
  
End of the harvest...  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama was going to miss Astronomy, which was a pity. Makai didn't have stars.  
  
He hurried through the castle on silent feet, keeping to the shadows, slipping into dark nooks and behind tapestries when he heard anyone approach. Curfew was soon, though (except for Astronomy classes) and the missed encounters were rare.  
  
A slightly-too-fast rise in the power caught him off-guard, and he stumbled, biting back a curse. He ducked behind a pillar and waited for his heart rate to slow. Voices floated in from the courtyard.  
  
"The 'stand there and pound relentlessly' method ain't gonna work on your average demon, kids." Kurama recognized Yuusuke's voice easily, which gave him some measure of relief. Friend... "How many times have I told you this? Use your feet! Move around a little!" A near-silent whisper of air rushing past a body in motion, and the meaty thunk of fist against flesh -- three of those, then three more of bodies hitting the ground.  
  
Fighting... he's being attac-- NO. Kurama forced himself to think rationally. His talk; he's training. Teaching. Not a fight. A second passed while Kurama bit his lip, working to remember the lists and schedules. Crabbe. Goyle. Bulstrode.  
  
"Very cunning," Yuusuke said dryly. "Now get UP. Faking you're hurt worse than you are will just get you dead."  
  
Dead... dead... dead... Kurama's hands tightened into fists, and he burst into a run.  
  
"I didn't hit you THAT hard..." followed him in his wake.  
  
Several corridors later, he found the side door nearest the Forest; his target. Hiei stood leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest.  
  
"What...?" Kurama whispered.  
  
Hiei tilted his head up to look at him. "End of the harvest, Kurama. Niinamesai, isn't it?"  
  
"You--" Damn. Damn damn damn... no one was supposed to know. Even HE hadn't recognized the problem until after his classes. "How--?"  
  
"They call it 'Halloween'. It's very important to wizards." Hiei gave a faint smile, one without any hint of a smirk to it. "The different climate... it caught you unprepared. You were expecting another three weeks before the pulse."  
  
Kurama couldn't answer. It was one thing to share a weakness, like at the equinox, but this had all the disadvantage on Kurama's side. And he couldn't kill Hiei -- he was Hiei. He was standing in the way but he was Hiei...  
  
"So. What are you doing about it?"  
  
"I can't stay," Kurama said. "I just..." I can't. It hurts... I can't just give in... it's all dead TONIGHT... "I can't."  
  
Still no contempt or pity in Hiei's eyes. "The nearest fault is underwater. You can't get to Makai."  
  
Kurama lowered his eyes, reached under his collar, and drew out the chain of a necklace. A flattened glass vial dangled on the end, filled with fluid the distinctive color of Past Life. Hiei's eyes widened faintly. "Well..." Kurama murmured. "The Forest needs a clearing out anyway."  
  
"'Youko has returned, they cry'," Hiei muttered.  
  
Kurama shrugged.  
  
Hiei studied him for another moment, his eyes and expression blank. Then he stepped away from the door and let his arms fall.  
  
Kurama stepped past him and put a hand on the knob. "Thank you, Hiei," he said softly. He pushed the door open, looked up to the quarter moon, and took a deep breath of the cool night air.  
  
Pain exploded in the back of his head, and the world went black.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hiei caught Kurama as the redhead slumped forward, preventing him from hitting the ground. Red hair slid away from the nape of Kurama's neck, and Hiei brushed a bit more away, checking the base of Kurama's skull with careful fingers for a soft spot. He found none, though there was sure to be a sore bump when Kurama woke the next day, and his fingers moved to the side of Kurama's neck. He pressed down on the pulse.  
  
One... two... three... His initial punch had knocked the fox senseless, but Kurama would come around in seconds if Hiei didn't do more to keep him unconscious. Blocking the blood flow to the brain was dangerous, but Hiei could NOT use his Jagan out here.  
  
Seven... eight... Letting Youko go on a mourning/withdrawal rampage through the Forbidden Forest was not an option. Hopefully, Kurama would see the sense of that, once he came back to his senses, and not kill Hiei.  
  
Nine... ten. Hiei let up on the pressure, and toed the door shut. Now he had a few minutes of leeway, and set Kurama down on the grass, turning him to a sitting position. He flung his cloak over Kurama, not bothering to take it off first, looped the fox's arms over his shoulders, and with a bit of twisting and knotting, had Kurama cradled in a makeshift sling on his back.  
  
The stones of the Tower above them were old and worn, cracked and weathered to an excellent surface for freeclimbing. And since there was no way Hiei was walking through the castle carrying Kurama -- the chances for getting caught and dragged to the Infirmary were far too high, plus it was a long route to the Fat Lady's portrait from here -- he climbed.  
  
It was easy once he'd gotten past the 6th floor. Gryffindor Tower started here, and the window ledges were wide and deep. They were as good as a ladder for a demon.  
  
Hiei slipped into his own dorm through the window he'd left open. The dorm was thankfully empty, even at this hour, and he quickly set Kurama into his bed. He pushed his headband up on his forehead, exposing the Jagan eye, and used a faint touch of power to deepen Kurama's conscious level to borderline coma.  
  
He then took his katana from his trunk, drew the curtains, and sat himself leaning against the headboard to keep watch. This was going to be a long night.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry opened his eyes, and yelped, leaping back from the edge of a cliff. Far below, the sea stretched out to the horizon, barely distinguishable from the night sky in the light of a quarter moon. The wind blowing in from the ocean cut through his pajamas as if they weren't even there, and stung his eyes til they watered.  
  
He turned away, blinking rapidly. Pajamas, bare feet, no glasses, no wand, and no idea where he was or how he got here... why DID that strike him as familiar?  
  
Two human figures stood over a lump of silver-specked gold. Harry suddenly was quite aware of his scar, feeling his pulse pounding through it.  
  
That would explain it. Another vision. And he would just have to stand here and watch the slaughter without being able to DO a damn thing about it! Again!  
  
Slowly, Harry walked towards them, eyes focused more on the ground than on the people. He could feel the prickly winter-dead grass and little pebbles, though his feet didn't have any effect on them, and he didn't particularly want to step on a large, sharp rock.  
  
About halfway between the cliff and Voldemort, he saw a faintly glowing line on the ground, and stopped. This was about where he'd hit the barrier last time, wasn't it? Maybe... maybe there was something more about it. Maybe this time, if he kept his cool, he could find a break in the barrier and actually do something.  
  
Harry began to walk beside the line, eyes on it, trying not to focus too much on the figures. Inside the circle -- for it was a circle -- Wormtail bent to the ground, then straightened.  
  
"Not so far apart, fool," Voldemort hissed, catching Harry's attention. Wormtail bent again, this time not getting any reaction from his master. He then stepped away and prodded the mass of silvery-gold. A half-grown unicorn wobbled to its feet, and Wormtail positioned it carefully. Then he brought out a knife.  
  
Harry flinched and tore his eyes from the scene, gaze skittering over strange symbols on the ground, before the unicorn whinnied a scream and the world swirled away.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
He came to with a thump in his own bed, scar burning. The unicorn, the ritual... third time, now. Rushing off to tell Dumbledore hadn't done much of anything last time, but he might as well, since he was awake now. Better than having to get up early, or wait until after classes.  
  
Harry shoved off his bedcovers and reached for his glasses. Then he got out of bed, putting his slippers on, and went to his trunk to fetch his Invisibility Cloak.  
  
"Again, Potter?" At Hiei's soft question, Harry quickly yanked the hood of his cloak on. Again... yes. Wait, what makes him say 'again'? Hiei stuck his head out from behind his bedcurtains. "You have the worst timing," he muttered, easing out into the room. Harry tried to breathe silently, as Hiei prowled across the room, his dark eyes narrow and searching. He reached the doorway, crossed his arms, and scowled at the room in general. "Take off the charm, Harry," he said, still at the same low volume that wouldn't wake anybody else. "I know you're still in here."  
  
Something about the way Hiei said that was extremely... unnerving, even for him. Maybe it was the way he'd moved, more like a cat than a teenage boy, or the hint of hot -- rather than cold -- wariness in his eyes. Harry couldn't identify the attitude Hiei seemed to be radiating right now.  
  
"Dammit, Potter, I can't guard the door all night. Take off the charm."  
  
Harry stayed silent, as Hiei waited, his eyes scanning the room. After a few minutes, Hiei sighed.  
  
"Look. I'm not trying to butt into your business," he said. "But thrashing about in your sleep like that... and you're just going to get up and go roaming the halls? With that mangy cat sniffing you out to get caught?" He paused, a flicker of disappointment ghosting over his face. "I thought you were smarter than that."  
  
A pause. Then it was Harry's turn to sigh. "I'm not roaming the halls," he admitted. "I'm going to Dumbledore."  
  
Hiei stilled. "Another of those dreams, then," he concluded. Then, surprisingly, he tilted his head and asked, "Do you need Yukina for the headache?"  
  
Oh. That would be the reason for the 'again'. Hiei had been there when Yukina healed Harry from his last vision, back in September. But that time, Harry had crashed into Voldemort's barrier... this time, he only felt the usual heat in his scar, and that would be gone by morning. "No. Thanks."  
  
Hiei glanced towards the other beds. "I can't go..." he muttered, almost to himself. "Take Yuusuke."  
  
The tone would've been a command if anyone else had given it, Harry thought, but if he was reading Hiei right... it was more of a request. "Let him sleep," Harry responded.  
  
Hiei untensed slightly -- in defeat, it seemed to Harry -- gave him a curt nod, and stepped away from the door, walking back to his bed. Harry slipped over to the door, glancing back before he pushed on the latch, but Hiei was pointedly ignoring him now.  
  
Harry left.  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
Hiei waited until the latch clicked shut, then climbed back into bed, letting the curtains fall back into place behind him.  
  
Damn kid... if he wasn't stuck trying to play "non-suspiscious human student", he could've done something to keep Harry here -- maybe knocked him out, too, or flat-out told him he was under guard -- rather than wandering the halls unsupervised. And he couldn't send anybody after the kid; Yuusuke was straining the limits of his stealth abilities just pretending to be Genkai's crazy favorite overpowered student. Kuwabara was not an option. And as for himself and Kurama...  
  
"Shh..." he soothed, pushing down on Kurama's consciousness again with the Jagan's power. Kurama's expression smoothed out, the faint lines of pain gone from around his eyes and mouth, as he lost what consciousness he'd regained while Hiei was arguing with Harry.  
  
Hiei wiped a bit of sweat from Kurama's brow, and settled back for the rest of the night.  
  



	23. All Hallow's Aftermath

  
  
Kurama woke to a blinding headache deep in the base of his skull, a weight on his chest, and something soft poking and tickling under his nose. He winced, bringing up a hand to brush the tickling thing aside, and opened his eyes.  
  
Two round, yellow eyes were staring at him. The tickly soft thing was a paw.  
  
"Nnh... Yuki?" Kurama murmured. What was Hiei's cat doing in his-- wait. Kurama wasn't in his own bed. This place smelled of warmth and Hiei, not damp dungeons and Kurama. And the reddish tint to the darkness within the drawn curtains was something of an obvious clue as well. What on earth was he doing in Hiei's bed? He didn't remember much of anything from last night...  
  
Kurama absently scratched Yuki behind the ears, trying to put what he remembered in some sort of order. He'd had classes, of course. Then a short break before dinner -- his Housemates had been oddly hyper as they'd swarmed up to the Great Hall. Dinner, lots of pumpkins, and the noise levels had risen. After dinner, the crowds of teenagers had all but carried him away in a river of black robes and sugar-scent. He'd broken away somehow, wound up wandering the halls, looking for somewhere without all the children -- he'd promised, he'd promised, couldn't hurt the human brats... (a vague recollection: Yuusuke's voice and the sound of fist against flesh, training-not-attack)... and then Hiei.  
  
He'd been between Kurama and a door, false-black eyes pinned to Kurama with an emotion Kurama didn't recognize. Not-pity. A flare of confused rage: can't attack Hiei have to pass why are you in the WAY--?  
  
 _Hiei's voice. "They call it 'Halloween'."_  
  
Halloween. The Western day of the dead, though nowhere near properly reverent, according to the guidebooks.  
  
 _"End of the harvest. Niinamesai."_  
  
Kurama bolted upright at that flicker of memory, dislodging Yuki. THAT hadn't been in the guidebooks! Crazy Westerners... it made no sense to associate the end of the harvest with the return of their ancestors. Unless they couldn't tell the difference? Death was death...  
  
No wonder he'd felt so odd... had he even realized what was happening?  
  
He focused, forcing up more memories from that point: the flicker of light, the vial of PastLife dangling from his own hand, his own voice speaking.  
  
 _"The Forest needs a cleaning out anyway."_  
  
That answered that. So then... Hiei had surrendered (what had he been thinking?!), had stepped away from the door and let Kurama through--  
  
And the rest of his memory was violet magic.  
  
"You little bastard," Kurama murmured to himself, almost appreciatively. He couldn't have dropped his guard for more than a split second, and he would've been fighting the Jagan's power furiously all night.  
  
With that realization, his decision solidified in his mind, and Kurama opened the bedcurtains to sunshine.  
  
A sheet of parchment lay folded on the nightstand. Kurama took it, unfolding it out of sheer curiosity, and found a note written in Hiei's bold, fluid kanji.  
  
  
 _You'll wake around 9 am. Don't bother with Arithmancy, Vector thinks you're ill. Your judgement and powers aren't back to par yet; don't medicate yourself til after dark. Yukina will be done with DADA at 9:45 if you can't handle the headache._  
  
 _We can fight this out later. Don't kill my cat._  
  
  
  
Aw. Kurama turned the note to Yuki with a small smile. "Look, kitty, he's worried about you." The kitten sniffed at the parchment, wide-eyed and wary, as Kurama continued, "Isn't he cute?" Yuki's wide-eyed stare transferred to Kurama. "We won't tell him. But he IS being cute."  
  
The cat mewed in protest, and Kurama chuckled softly, wincing when it made his head throb.  
  
"Okay," he muttered. "That's enough of that."  
  
After a long shower (in the Gryffindor boys' bathroom), a change of clothing (most of it swiped from Harry's trunk, though Kurama was forced to use his own tie and Slytherin-colored things from the previous day), Kurama felt almost ready to face classes. Except for the lingering headache, which was annoying. He checked the clock, the hands at Time To Go and Sneaking Out, and slipped past the Fat Lady's empty portrait.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"... and then Hiei let me leave, and I went and told Dumbledore, and that was pretty much it," Harry told his friends, during the short break between Divination and Transfiguration. "I think he was asleep by the time I got back."  
  
Ron had a puzzled look on his face. "What was Hiei doing up?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I dunno. Everybody has sleepless nights, don't they?"  
  
"Does it really matter?" Hermione asked. "We've got more important things to think about." She turned to Harry. "You've had this unicorn dream, what, three times now?"  
  
"I guess... um..." Harry thought for a moment. "Summer, September, and last night. Yeah, three."  
  
"And you're SURE You-Know-Who isn't drinking it?"  
  
"I don't think so. He wouldn't dump it all over the ground if he was, would he?"  
  
"Probably not," Hermione admitted. "And he wouldn't need any sort of barrier circle if that's all he was doing." She nodded decisively. "We need to figure out what he's up to. What are the uses of unicorn blood?"  
  
Harry and Ron stared blankly at her. "Um..." Harry murmured, "drinking it saves you from death, but gives the drinker a cursed half-life. Or something." That was close enough to what Firenze had said, wasn't it?  
  
"But he's not drinking it," Hermione said pointedly.  
  
"'Mione," Ron said, "why do you think WE know that stuff? You're the bloody bookworm here, not us!"  
  
"Brainstorming technique," Hermione answered. "But if you don't know, and I don't know -- we've definitely never covered it in class, and I don't recall seeing it in any of my reading..." She trailed off, a familiar gleam shining in her eyes.  
  
"Oh no..." Harry and Ron groaned.  
  
"We'll need to go to the library!"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
After Potions, and after lunch, on Thursday, Hiei climbed to the top of Gryffindor Tower, the highest tower at Hogwarts with no access to the roof. He picked the lock on the window at the top of the staircase, and jumped to catch the beams under the eaves. After that, it was a simple -- if dangerously acrobatic -- matter of swinging himself onto the shingles to reach the roof.  
  
"I thought I'd find you here," he said, looking up at the redhead seated near the tower's conical peak.  
  
Kurama glanced away from the leaf in his hand, eyes flat and cool, and silently set the spyeye vine aside.  
  
Hiei waited.  
  
And waited.  
  
"Can we get this over with?" he finally snapped.  
  
Kurama raised an eyebrow. "Get what over with, Hiei?"  
  
Hiei gritted his teeth. Kurama knew damn well what he was talking about... didn't he? "Halloween," he said shortly. There should be no further need for explanation, not with what he'd done with his fist and Jagan eye.  
  
"Oh. That," Kurama murmured airily. He took up his leaf again, gaze dropping to the depths of whatever view it showed. "In hindsight... there was nothing else you could've done. So I'm not angry."  
  
Hiei snorted his disbelief, and Kurama's eyes shot back to him.  
  
"I'm not happy about it," he clarified, "but I'm not angry." A pause. "So you can quit waiting for my attack. I'm not about to jump you."  
  
Against his rational judgement, Hiei relaxed the tiniest bit. Experience told him that Kurama had absolutely no problem with lying, especially if it gave him a tactical edge of any sort... but Hiei trusted Kurama. As much as one demon could trust another, of course.  
  
Kurama's mouth twitched upwards, and he tugged at a branch of his spyeye, pulling it like taffy. He held the leaf out towards Hiei. "As long as you're up here, make yourself useful."  
  
Hiei considered leaving for all of a half second, before recognizing the faint smile on Kurama's face. It wasn't a forgiving expression. Silently, he took the leaf, and sat down. "How?" he asked simply.  
  
"The knob on the base of the stem controls the view. The subtitles list where they are; just find spots that may work for making Suzuki's receipe."  
  
Ahh... Kurama was working to locate a spot where he could brew Past Life without getting caught. Hiei turned to the leaf, and began working the toggle-knob.  
  



	24. Game Plans

  
  
Saturday rolled around sunny and cool, with a faint breeze: a perfect day for Quidditch. And as usual before the first game of the season, tensions were running high in the Great Hall. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, the first match every year, always promised a hard, brutal, dirty game, and it was a sure bet that Madame Pomfrey would be having patients by the end of the day.  
  
As to whether those patients would only be players with legitimate injuries, or include overzealous students hexing the enemy supporters, only time would tell.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Hurry up, Minamino!"  
  
It took a moment for Blaise Zabini's shout to register. "Coming..." Kurama murmured around the handle of his hairbrush (currently clenched in his teeth), as he tried to tie his hair back properly, push his foot into his shoe, and finish growing two vines into place outside.  
  
Should've done it last night when I did the others, Kurama thought ruefully. Then it wouldn't have been such a problem that he'd overslept.  
  
The door banged open. "Come on already!" Blaise said. "We're going to miss breakfast with all your primping -- and your hair's going to be windblown by lunchtime as it is."  
  
There. The end of his vines were in the right spot. Kurama spat out his hairbrush and kicked the leaf of his vine back under his nightstand. "All done!" he said cheerfully, hurrying around his bed.  
  
"Don't forget your scarf," Blaise said helpfully.  
  
"I'll be fine," Kurama said, smiling. He refused to wear unnecessary Slytherin colors for the Gryffindor game. "It's not that cold out."  
  
"Suit yourself."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hiei had left breakfast early, and lurked in the rafters between the Gryffindor locker rooms and the spectator seats for a good twenty minutes before Harry Potter strolled down to get ready for the match. A quick glance assured him that Harry was alone, and he darted down to stand a half-meter or so in front of Harry, startling a satisfyingly sharp yelp from the boy. He smirked faintly as Harry stumbled back, barely managing not to fall in his surprise.  
  
"Hiei! What are you doing here?" he asked, after the half-second of shock wore off.  
  
Half a second. Not good enough; he would need a better reaction time than that if he wanted to survive this 'savior of the wizarding world' crap. "Playing owl," Hiei answered dryly.  
  
"Huh? Owl?"  
  
Hiei crossed his arms and leaned back against a pillar. "Kurama has a message for you," he clarified. Harry perked up slightly, visibly curious. "He says he can't wait to see your moves," Hiei paused suggestively, mimicking Kurama exactly, "on the field, and he's sorry he can't root for you openly--"  
  
"Why not?" Harry interrupted.  
  
"Why do you think?" Hiei shot at him.  
  
Harry actually paused to consider that. "He's been sort of ignoring the House stuff..."  
  
"No, he hasn't."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Was it part of being a human, a teenager, or a Gryffindor that made Harry occasionally dumb as a rock, Hiei wondered. "You have noticed that he's been avoiding you?"  
  
Harry blinked.  
  
"He has," Hiei said bluntly. "Not that it's obvious, but he probably hasn't said more than ten words directly to you since we were in your compartment on the train." Harry's eyes were wide and shocked behind his glasses. "The Slytherins watch. He only gets away with hanging around us," Hiei gestured towards himself, tone and gesture indicating all the Tantei, "because he tells them we're amusing." He said the last word derisively. "And he. Is. Sick of it."  
  
Harry's mouth worked soundlessly, and Hiei settled back a bit more.  
  
"Not that I'm supposed to be telling you all this," he added, more calmly. "He just wanted to wish you luck, and let you know he's cheering for your side. So kick Malfoy's scrawny blond arse."  
  
Another soundless moment, and then Harry's mouth shut with a click, and he blinked away his shock. "I can't believe he said that."  
  
Hiei smirked. "I'm paraphrasing." He turned away, then paused. "I'll be sitting with Kurama," he said casually, deliberately not glancing back at Harry.  
  
"... Could you tell him 'thanks, and I will'?"  
  
Hiei nodded curtly, and darted away.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama lingered outside the stands, circling them, people-watching and looking for the least filled of the Slytherin-draped sections. The stadium was filling quickly, the buzz of the crowd increasing in volume as more and more students grabbed seats. Most of the students were gravitating towards the stands nearest the castle, so Kurama circled towards the back of the stadium, eyes wide and blatantly curious. (It was only to be expected, after all: none of the Tantei had ever seen a Quidditch pitch, so open staring wouldn't be suspicious.)  
  
He spied a lull in the flow of students coming from the castle, and slipped into the momentarily empty stairwell alone. The two vines he'd placed there that morning (his wiry, gray spyeye, and a gray-brown spiderleaf) dropped from the rafters, and he quickly dialed up the view of Snape's office. Empty and -- he zoomed in on the door -- locked. Unsurprising, considering that the professor had left the castle mere meters behind Kurama.  
  
An instant's flare of power, carefully directed into the spiderleaf, sent their leaves dangling, holding long glass vials before the jars of powdered bicorn horn and boomslang skin. Moving quickly, manipulating his magic and the spiderleaf with old, long-unused skill, he popped the corks, opened the jars, and filled the vials to capacity. Then he recapped everything, cocooned the vials within the obscuring leaves, and lifted the vines back into the depths of the shadowy ceiling.  
  
It took barely two minutes.  
  
Kurama sent his vines back into the rafters, and hurried up the steps to find a seat for the game. He found an empty spot near one of the corners, and waited. Several minutes later, Hiei arrived, pushing past hostile Slytherins and ignoring their offended glares. He plopped into the empty seat by the alumni tower, leaving Kurama between him and the humans.  
  
Kurama raised an eyebrow questioningly -- what was Hiei doing here, rather than sitting with his own House? -- but let it go. Whatever damage could be done by a Gryffindor's presence had already been done, and the extra, hostile attention would add to his alibi. After all, Kurama could hardly slip away from the game with half the Slytherins watching the nasty little Gryffindor right next to him, now could he.  
  
He turned his attention to the field, and stood to cheer in human fashion with the rest of the crowd, as the teams flew out onto the pitch.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Now, I want a good, clean game," Madam Hooch said sharply, gold eyes raking over the Gryffindors and Slytherins equally. Despite all the times she said the warning -- and was disobeyed -- the words were delivered as briskly as they had been in Harry's first year, without any noticeable jaded edge to them.  
  
THAT was hope, Harry thought, in the instant before her whistle pierced the air, and she tossed the Quaffle high.  
  
Harry kicked off to fly above the action, far out of the way.  
  
"Johnson takes the Quaffle, and we're off!" Lee Jordan's voice rang out over the field, as Harry gained altitude. "The Gryffindor Chasers sail across the field -- two new Chasers this year, Andrew Kirke and Yuusuke Urameshi, neither of which are anywhere near as lovely as last year's graduates--" A distinctly female-dominated boo roared from the crowd. "--but the team goes for talent, not looks, anyways--"  
  
"Jordan!" McGonagall scolded.  
  
"--and I'm just digging myself in deeper, aren't I."  
  
Looked like Lee was as irrepressable as ever. Harry reached his favored height, somewhat above the alumni tower peaks, and began scanning for the Snitch.  
  
Far below, Seamus elbowed Neville, and pointed across the pitch. "That's Hiei in the Slytherin stands!" he hissed, pointing. "That dirty little traitor--"  
  
Neville turned his binoculars on the stand in question, and shrugged. "He's sitting with Kurama."  
  
"With the Slytherins!"  
  
"He's not cheering. I think he just wants to sit with Kurama."  
  
"But--!"  
  
Lee's shouts drowned out the rest of Seamus' protest. "HEY! YOU DIRTY SLIMY SLYTHERIN--"  
  
"JORDAN!"  
  
"Ahem. Slytherin Beater Derrick mistakes the Quaffle for the Bludger and whaps it into his own Chaser's arms, COMPLETELY by accident I'm SURE. Pucey speeds across the field, corkscrews past a Bludger -- damn thing missed, try again ya bloody ball!"  
  
"Jordan, I'm warning you..."  
  
"Pucey passes to Montague, Montague shoots... first score, Slytherin. 10 points," Lee grumbled, the Slytherins yelling wildly.  
  
As Gryffindor gained possession of the ball, Kurama sat back, rubbing his throat lightly.  
  
"What was all that?" Hiei asked.  
  
"All what?" Kurama asked, pulling a bottle of water from his pocket and taking a drink.  
  
Hiei flicked a glance over the crowd, then turned his gaze back to Kurama significantly. "That. Acting like that."  
  
Kurama smiled. "Yelling is almost mandatory for spectators at sporting events, Hiei. Remember the Tournament?"  
  
"Hn!"  
  
"You should try it sometime." He set his water aside and leapt back to his feet, shouting wordlessly with the crowd, completely missing the dirty look Hiei shot him.  
  
High above, there was still no sign of the Snitch, as Lee's commentary continued.  
  
"Kirke streaks across the field, passes to Johnson, passes to Urameshi, he loops around Beater Bole -- crazy play, narrow miss with the bat AND the Bludger there -- the Chasers break away -- what the hell are you thinking?!"  
  
"Jord--!"  
  
"THAT'S BLOODY WRONG!!" Lee's voice rang out over Professor McGonagall's and the crowd. "WHAT SORT OF PLAY IS THAT, JOHN--" Light flashed in the corner of Harry's eye, and he snapped his head around, just in time to see a Bludger finish smacking Yuusuke in the head and go sailing off across the pitch. Yuusuke and his broom spun madly into the Slytherin goal zone, out of control -- Yuusuke had to be out cold -- the Slytherin Keeper laughed as Yuusuke's broom passed him -- "--SON?! SOMEONE GET MADAME POM--" Yuusuke's head snapped up, and he tossed the Quaffle through the lowest hoop. "--frey? Urameshi scores?"  
  
The stadium burst into cheers, except for the Slytherin stands. The Slytherin captain waved wildly for a timeout, and both teams landed. By the time Harry made it to the ground, the Slytherins had crowded around Madam Hooch.  
  
"He must have some illegal Impervius charm cast on him or something!" Malfoy yelled, pointing wildly at Yuusuke. "NO one stays conscious after a Bludger to the head, NO one!" His team chorused agreement.  
  
"Feel free to check!" Yuusuke shouted over the noise. "My head's harder than a rock!"  
  
No kidding, Harry thought wildly, as Madam Pomfrey bustled over, pushing between the players.  
  
"Out of the way, out of the way, don't put up such a fuss--" She elbowed the twins aside and stopped next to Yuusuke, pulling out her wand. "Arm down, Mr. Urameshi," she ordered briskly.  
  
"What?" Yuusuke began, lowering his arm instinctively. Madam Pomfrey pushed it the rest of the way down, and ran her wand near his hair. "Hey! What are you-- cut it out! I'm fine!"  
  
The nurse stepped back. "He's fine. Not so much as a bruise. Are you sure he was hit by a Bludger?"  
  
Malfoy raised his chin in triumph. "I told you! We all saw it! He MUST be using an illegal charm!"  
  
Hooch's eyes narrowed, and she waved her own wand at Yuusuke. "Spellcheck." As Harry boggled at the word, a faint yellow light poured from her wand and surrounded Yuusuke. It flickered, then changed to white. "Not a spell on him," she announced. "Resume play!"  
  
Exchanging a glare with Malfoy, Harry flew above the action once more, this time tuning out anything that wasn't coming at him or gleaming Snitch-gold. As well as he was able to, at least -- there were some things he couldn't ignore.  
  
Bong! "Slytherin scores!"  
  
Duck! as a Bludger blasted past, nearly clipping him.  
  
Bong! "Another ten points for Slytherin-- and Beater Bole misses the Bludger, gets Urameshi in the shoulder! Ouch! Chaser Urameshi shakes it off -- ha, a Bludger to the head barely fazed him, what's a bat going to do?"  
  
"Jordan!"  
  
"Penalty shot for Gryffindor!" Bong! "Ten points!" Lee cheered, and the crowd roared its approval. (Literally. A large portion of the upperclass Gryffindors had apparently picked up a new charm somewhere.)  
  
Bong! Slytherin again... Harry bit his lip. "Come on, Ron, don't panic now..." he murmured, eyes flicking towards the Gryffindor goalposts--  
  
There! A flash of gold near the Ravenclaw stands. Harry shot forward in pursuit.  
  
"Potter's seen the Snitch! Get it get it get it--"  
  
"JORDAN!"  
  
"Right--" Harry ducked under one of the twins, looped past a Slytherin. "-- Johnson sneaks past Keeper Bletchly while he's watching the Seekers and scores!" Harry barely skimmed around a Bludger, attention focused on the Snitch fluttering madly before him. He knew Malfoy was on his tail -- had to be on his tail, closing in -- and didn't care, Angelina had tied the score and the ferret couldn't do a damn thing about it...  
  
The blue bunting shifted to green, and the Snitch dropped like a stone, faster than a stone, wings buzzing to gain speed straight down, and Harry followed. He hooked his ankles around the crook at the base of his broom's handle, pushing forward, one hand gripping the broom and the other outstretched, letting gravity pull him down and closer... closer... the air at his fingertips buzzed from the Snitch's wings...  
  
His foot slipped.  
  
"POTTER'S CAUGHT THE SNITCH!!"  
  
Harry pulled up as best he could, but the change in direction was too quick, and his foothold too loose; he tumbled from his broom.  
  
He caught a glimpse of open horror on Kurama's face on the way down.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama leaned over the side of the spectator box with the rest of the Slytherins, schooling his expression to impassivity as he took in the sight of Harry crumpled on the ground far below. People were already streaming onto the pitch towards the fallen Seeker: Madam Pomfrey, Madam Hooch, the Gryffindor team, the Granger girl -- she must've leapt many of the stairs to get to the ground so quickly.  
  
Hiei leaned out beside Kurama. "Clumsy," he observed, drinking the last of Kurama's water.  
  
Kurama swatted him. "Critique his technique after you try teaching him to be a better monkey," he told Hiei, eyes still on the ground. Madam Pomfrey was conjuring Harry onto a stretcher, directing the growing crowd away. Snape and McGonagall pushed their way through, and Pomfrey gestured to Snape. The potions professor leaned in close, then swept away, striding back towards the castle at what would've been a dead run in almost anyone else. Pomfrey, the stretcher, and the crowd, started to make their own way back at a more careful pace.  
  
The Slytherin seats began to empty.  
  
"Show's over," Kurama murmured, carefully pitching his voice just loud enough that any too-curious Slytherins would have to strain to hear him. That would catch their attention like nothing else. "Pity."  
  
Hiei made a disdainful sound.  
  
That should be enough to convince his Housemates that he was upholding their stupid House rivalry, despite Hiei. He turned away from the spectacle casually, glancing around as he walked to the stairs. They were the last in the box. Hiei pushed past Kurama to take point, and the instant they were in the stairwell, Kurama grabbed his vines.  
  
The spyeye leaf was still tuned to Snape's office, showing the Potions Master already present and glaring at his shelves. He peered closely at the B section of his ingredients, face darkening with fury. Kurama wrapped the spiderleaf around his hand, waiting.  
  
Abruptly, Snape shoved away from his ingredients, whirling towards the back of his office to grab a bottle from the shelves of completed potions, and stormed to the door. Kurama's spiderleaves, with their hidden, cocooned vials, slid silently across the ceiling directly above Snape. He flung the door open, and Kurama's vines darted under the lintel as the professor stormed out.  
  
The door slammed shut in his wake, and Snape ran down the hall without a backwards glance. Kurama's spiderleaves slunk into a nearby mousehole, and Kurama programmed them to shrink to their roots over the next twenty minutes. Those roots were carefully planted in a room at the bottom of the mousehole, a cavity barely the size of a toilet stall: all that remained of a series of collapsed rooms deep in the most uninhabitable part of the dungeons.  
  
The great heist by Youko Kurama, from the jerk of a Potions Master who thought the fox was a mere human teenager, was complete, Kurama thought wryly.  
  
He untangled himself from his vines, and he and Hiei hurried the rest of the way to the ground.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry came to with a bad taste in his mouth, and a splitting headache reminiscent of his visions. Except he hadn't had one...  
  
He groaned, and was rewarded with a familiar, happy cry of "Harry!"  
  
Ron's voice. Heavy things on his arms and legs -- Quidditch gear? And metal in his cramping hand... the Snitch. He let it go.  
  
"You fell off your broom," Ron's voice continued, more quietly. The word 'again' hung unspoken. "Caught the Snitch and slid right off."  
  
Harry swallowed, despite the horrible taste (boiled white nettles, pickled toad liver, curry, and something salty -- concussion potion, if he remembered other hospital stays correctly), and mumbled, "Who won?"  
  
"We did, of course!" That one was Fred-or-George.  
  
A swish of skirts: Madam Pomfrey bustling over. Harry was familiar enough with the occurance to picture it. And why wasn't he seeing it, for that matter? "You've cluttered up my Infirmary enough, you can go," she ordered briskly. "Mr. Potter, open your eyes."  
  
Oh.  
  
Harry opened his eyes as the nurse pressed his glasses into his hand, putting them on while she helped him sit upright. Muttering about teenagers and Quidditch, she handed him a cup filled with a steaming yellow liquid once his hands were free.  
  
"You're lucky you landed on your head, you know," she told him curtly. She tipped his head to the side -- he didn't protest; there was something sticky on that side of his head, and he could easily guess that he had a head wound of some sort -- and ran her wand along a curve between his crown and temple. "Hardest part of a young wizard's body! Anywhere else and you'd be spending more than a few minutes here."  
  
The pain in his head was fading, though now the wound itched with the too-familiar sensation of skin knitting itself back together at a magically-enhanced pace.  
  
"Well? Drink up, and we'll have you out of here."  
  
Harry made a face, and chugged the yellow stuff down. Ugh -- a second dose of concussion potion. He set the cup aside, gasping for air, and Pomfrey snatched it away. "No Butterbeer, easy on the Fizzing Whizbees, and none of the Weasley twins' nonsense tonight, do you hear me?"  
  
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."  
  
"Good. Off you go."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Late that night, after his roommates' breathing had slowed into the true sleep, Kurama pulled his vines down from the canopy of his bed. Under the faint light of a feyflower, he began the painstaking task of brewing Suzuki's potion by remote control.  
  



	25. The Title That Time Forgot

  
  
  
Nothing, Harry thought, as he let his body run through the warmup exercises Friday morning. Nearly a full week had passed since Kurama had sent him that message through Hiei, since Hiei had let slip that Kurama was sick of catering to Slytherin watchers, and... nothing. The Slytherin boy still behaved exactly as he had before.  
  
Harry had noticed, now that he was paying attention. Kurama somehow always managed to be talking to Hiei, or Yuusuke, or Kuwabara -- a faintly amused smile on his face as he drew reactions from them -- before Potions and meals, and the rare times when he ran into the Gryffindors outside of class. The only other non-Slytherin student he actually had any regular contact with was Neville, in fact... and it was true, the school always did seem to be watching.  
  
It hurt.  
  
Now THAT'S an understatement of monstrous proportions, Potter, Harry told himself dryly. The fact that he was being shunned (avoided like the plague!), brought up a whole slew of 'hurt's. Even though he hadn't even noticed it... no, perhaps especially because he hadn't even noticed.  
  
Resignation: it wasn't as if being shunned was new. Dudley in Muggle school, the Heir of Slytherin mess in second year, last year when almost no one believed Harry hadn't cheated to get into the Tournament...  
  
Guilt over Cedric: association with Harry was potentially lethal. All my fault, and Kurama's just being sensible...  
  
Anger at that: sensible it might be, but it would've been just as sensible for Ron and Hermione to have dumped him in first year, or second, or third, and THEY hadn't! Kurama was just being a sneaky little coward and... and... he wasn't a Gryffindor. Open bravery wasn't his defining characteristic -- the Hat said so.  
  
He hadn't had the guts to even tell Harry he was going to avoid him.  
  
But he'd sent the message.  
  
... why?  
  
Hiei leapt to his feet, and Harry followed suit, standing more slowly as he shook free of his thoughts. He lifted his wooden sword as Hiei cast his usual flat gaze over the class.  
  
"Today you are being tested," he announced. A chorus of groans broke out. Hiei ignored them. "I will call out either 'block' or 'strike', and a series of numbers. You will perform the correct movement."  
  
A pause, and a noticeable sigh of relief spread through the class as they realized that was it for the instructions. Harry didn't think it sounded that hard; they'd only learned the first four movements of each type.  
  
"Weapons up," Hiei ordered, and Harry lifted his weapon. "Begin. Block-Four. Two. Three. Three. One. Four." The numbers came at the pace they'd been using for weeks, and Harry quickly fell into the familiar rhythm. This was easy! Why was it a test? "Strike-Two. Four. Four. One. Three. Two. Four. Block-Two. Three. Strike-Four. Two. Three. One."  
  
Five minutes of steady, measured counting later, Harry was starting to get the idea. This actually wasn't as easy as it sounded. You had to focus, but Hiei's monotone was about as interesting as Professor Binn's lectures, and he was using just six words. Six...  
  
"Strike-One."  
  
Boring...  
  
"Three."  
  
Dull...  
  
"Four."  
  
Flat...  
  
"Strike-Two."  
  
Harry, and most of the other students, fumbled, nearly performing block-two. Hey! No fair -- Hiei had said strike twice in a row!  
  
Harry yanked his wandering mind back to the routine. No more grumbling about how boring it was. Hiei could throw in that trick at any time...  
  
"Block-Four. Three. Two. One. Three. One. Four. Strike-Four. Four. Four. Four. One. Three. Two. One. Block-Two. Three. One. Three. One. Three. Two. Strike-Two. One. Three. Four. Two. Three. One. Block-Three. Four. Two."  
  
Ten more minutes, and Harry's forehead was lightly beaded with sweat, an ache developing between his eyebrows where his muscles were tense with concentration. Hiei had played his trick twice more, catching the entire class the last time.  
  
"Strike-Two. Four. Three. One. Stop." Weapons clattered to the floor. Harry brought a hand to his head, wiping the sweat away and pushing at the aching muscles. If Hiei did this regularly, no wonder he wore that headband all the time.  
  
Hiei crossed his arms, glaring at the class. "That was miserable," he said coldly. Harry winced in embarrassment. "What have you learned?"  
  
"That you give hard tests!" one of the older Gryffindors laughed. Hiei's eyes snapped to him, and he gulped and subsided.  
  
"Wrong," Hiei said. "Try again."  
  
A Ravenclaw raised her hand, and Hiei nodded shortly at her.  
  
"That we have to pay attention."  
  
Hiei almost smiled. "You cannot afford to be distracted," he clarified. "If you get into the habit during your training, you will lose focus during a fight." A cold glance flicked over them. "That'll get you and your allies killed.  
  
"Break yourselves of the habit over the next few weeks. Your next test will be faster." He paused as another groan went through the room. "There's willowbark tisane in the basket by the door. Drink it before Kuwabara's session if you have a headache." A final glance, and he gestured towards the racks. "Put your weapons away. Dismissed."  
  
Harry put his weapon away, took a vial from the basket, and followed Hiei out; he wasn't in Kuwabara's session.  
  
"How'd you get Snape to give this to the class?" he asked, taking a swig and trying not to taste the stuff. He almost succeeded, and made a face at the dry/fuzzy/bitter taste it left in his mouth.  
  
"He didn't," Hiei answered flatly. Harry almost choked. Had Hiei raided Snape's office--?! "I asked Kurama."  
  
Harry froze. "Kurama?"  
  
"Yes." Hiei glanced back at him, eyes narrowed with confusion. "He grows the stuff anyway."  
  
Oh. Yeah. Kurama made plants grow... and willow was freely available in the student cupboards, and water in every bathroom. Harry was being an idiot. "I, um, guess I was just surprised," Harry stammered. "That he would. Make this, I mean. What with that being-watched business."  
  
Hiei shrugged. "If anyone asks, I paid him more than it was worth."  
  
"Right."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"LONGBOTTOM!"  
  
Snape's roar echoed from the dungeon walls, carrying over the ringing in Kurama's ears. Neville's cauldron had just blown up in Potions. Again. Kurama wiped greenish sludge from his face as Snape swooped down on the unfortunate Gryffindor in a towering rage.  
  
The Potions professor's already-unpleasant disposition had only soured -- hard as that was to believe -- in the two weeks since the Quidditch match. Rumor had it that Snape was furious about losing to the Gryffindors with Potter AND three Weasleys on the team, but Kurama was all too aware that it was his fault. And now his student was suffering for it, and Kurama didn't dare do a damn thing. Except pass one of his extra handkerchiefs to Hiei and wait for the storm to pass.  
  
If it was anyone but Neville, Kurama thought as Snape hissed and glowered and terrified the Gryffindor witless, he would've deserved this. But him... damn Snape for being a blind, arrogant, petty fool of a human! Kurama had full control of his skills, but Neville didn't. Couldn't. In fact, had LESS control now that Kurama had begun the task of helping him unlock his abilities. How could Snape not realize this--?  
  
"-- and how your parents could spawn an incompetent dunderhead like yourself is beyond me!" Snape finished.  
  
Silence fell over the classroom.  
  
Shimatta...  
  
The Slytherins behind and beside Kurama leaned forward, eager anticipation flowing from them in waves to crash against the rising sense of outrage on the Gryffindor side of the room. Kurama waited, expressionless, as the air began to hum with power: Yuusuke's, Neville's, Kuwabara's, everybody's except Hiei, Kurama, and Snape. Untrained mindblind humans, do they even feel it? Do they understand?  
  
The cauldron next to Neville's exploded.  
  
The students shrieked and ducked under desks again, their power snapping off like a light. Another in the row went up, and another. Kurama threw out his power, clamping down on every cell of plant matter in the classroom to counteract Neville's loss of control.  
  
Snape's voice was like ice when he spoke again. "One hundred points from Gryffindor." A glob of the botched potion dripped from the end of his large nose with a dull splat. "Get. Out. Of. My. Sight." His gaze flicked around the room impartially. "Now!"  
  
Neville bolted.  
  
In the rush of students grabbing bags and escaping in Neville's wake, Kurama managed to get out first. Moss was already starting to grow from the walls on the corridor towards the surface; Kurama hushed it back into winter dormancy as he ran faster than a human could manage.  
  
He caught up with Neville halfway up the stairs, and slowed to match the Gryffindor's speed, staying a half step behind. There was no need to stop Neville; Kurama could let the boy run himself out first.  
  
They sped through the twisting hallways and grand, gothic rooms of Hogwarts, startling portraits and careening past statues -- Kurama could swear that one statue's gaze followed them as they passed.  
  
Shortly, on a staircase leading down to a side door, Neville tripped. Kurama caught the boy and pulled, countering his weight and momentum easily, preventing him from tumbling head-over-heels down the steps. Shocked eyes snapped to him -- Neville hadn't even noticed Kurama was there.  
  
"Wha...?" Neville began, staring as Kurama helped him regain his balance. A split second passed, muscles tense and shaking under Kurama's steadying hands, and Neville shook his head and yanked away.  
  
Kurama let go, folding his hands before him as he realized Neville had bolted from rage... not terror. He quickly revised his approach.  
  
"It's not healthy to suppress that," he said softly. "Come. We'll take this outside."  
  
He turned away, avoiding Neville's bewildered eyes, knowing he had to act fast before the boy regained his feet emotionally and swallowed his fury. Footsteps on the stairs behind him brought a faint relief -- Neville was following, obeying.  
  
Outside, Kurama led Neville away from the school, to a flat area between the tower and the Forest. There, he knelt, pressing a seed into the autumn-chilled ground. "The name for this translates to 'frostgut'," he began, judiciously pouring power into it. As it sprouted, throwing out blue-white, spiky leaves, Kurama added, "It's a Reikai plant, a monocot, and it grows wild in subartic environments. The sap is useful on frostbite, and counteracts hypothermia when drunk. The nectar, though, induces fever, and is often used by shamans in dream divination." He stood, stepping back as the main stem passed the meter mark in height and budded.  
  
He raised his eyes to meet Neville's. "Take control of it from me, and make it bloom."  
  
"What--?"  
  
"Fight me for control of the plant, Neville. I'll be holding it to this point; make it bloom."  
  
Uncertainly, Neville touched a leaf, and his power reached into the frostgut. Kurama gently pushed it away. Neville's brow furrowed, and he tried again.  
  
Kurama internally frowned. Neville was already burying his rage under shock -- that was no good. It would just fester there.  
  
"Think of Snape," Kurama said abruptly. Neville's eyes flicked from the leaves to meet Kurama's. "Remember every insult over the years, every belittling comment, every sneer. And it's all for NO REASON, Neville." Neville's magic froze against Kurama's, within the plant, then suddenly surged. "You don't need that class. You don't belong in that class -- it's done nothing but hold you back. What do YOU need Potions for? You can get the same results and more without all that brewing and sneering and insulting, just putting a little magic into a seed." Neville's power was truly fighting Kurama's now, struggling to bring the plant to bloom against Kurama's grip. "Five years of Snape for NOTHING--" he bit back a hiss as Neville's power scraped against his own.  
  
It didn't hurt, precisely. It wasn't strong enough to; about on the level of falling on the sidewalk, back when he was two and still hadn't quite gotten the hang of walking in human sneakers. But it startled him. He should be barely a D, even run by rage! But this is halfway to C--! Unless...? Kurama's eyes widened. He's... but I wasn't going to try to teach him that yet--!  
  
Neville slumped to the ground on his hands and knees, panting.  
  
Kurama stepped around the frostgut and knelt next to Neville. "You did well," he said softly. A low, bitter sound floated up from the boy's downturned face. "You did," Kurama pressed.  
  
"I didn't make it bloom."  
  
"I never expected you to." Silence greeted that. "What I wanted was for you to purge the anger, before it festered. What you did... I wasn't expecting this time. Neville, you USED your rage -- turned it to work FOR you, rather than control you." Kurama paused, letting that sink in. "I don't know if you realize the magnitude of that... it's a lesson most people never learn."  
  
"I still didn't make it bloom."  
  
Oh, for... "Neville, I've been training with my core magic since I was old enough to crawl." And that was a thousand years ago when I was a pup! "You've been training for all of two months. Don't expect miracles; you did better than I would've expected of anyone."  
  
Silence again, and Kurama stood. "Come on," he said, pulling Neville to his feet. "I'll take you back to Gryffindor Tower. Rest for the afternoon, and we'll start Ningenkai monocots next week."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The sun had set during dinner, and the wind had picked up off the lake. Late November at Hogwarts was bloody cold, driving everyone to crowd in their common rooms and the library when they had the choice, and tonight was no different.  
  
Harry had managed to beg off yet another game of chess with Ron, and now idly watched the redhead play against Keiko. It was better than doing -- Merlin forbid -- his homework.  
  
Ron's chesspieces were starting to spook Harry. He wasn't entirely sure why; maybe it was the tiny apron on the queen.  
  
.... Apron? Since when did Ron's chess queen wear an apron?  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Snow. Lightly falling, soft and gentle, invisible past the warm glow of firelight coming from the windows of Hogwarts. In the clouded dark of a winter night, one could imagine there was nothing past the castle itself, except the tiny, soft sparkles.  
  
Unless one had demon eyes to see the film of white thickening on the ground, or was simply not given to flights of fancy. Hope, yes. Illusion, delusion -- possible. Deliberate imaginings that the rest of the world -- and its dangers, its treasures -- no.  
  
Hiei snorted softly, and closed the window firmly. He casually tossed another log on the fire as he crossed the room, and took his usual seat on the low table before the couch, bringing one leg up to rest his foot on the polished wood.  
  
The Patil twins, used to this behavior, simply waited, side-by-side on the couch.  
  
"Ready state."  
  
Under his eyes, their power flared, coursing over their skin to their hands, and resettled. To normal human vision, their breath slowed by half, and their eyes seemed to go blank.  
  
"Good," Hiei said. "Come back." He waited the second required for their gazes to refocus on him, and pushed himself further back on the table and crossed his legs. Weeks before, before ever starting work with the girls, he'd drawn wardings into the edge. The chances of them picking him up on their viewing globes was minimal, as long as he was fully on the table.  
  
"You're going to start attempting to control your observations today," he said. "You--" he pointed at Padma, "--have the easier job. We'll start with Dean Thomas. Focus on his name and identity, and try to push that knowledge into your globe."  
  
His finger shifted to Parvati. "You have it harder. You are going to zero in on a specific time, but the visualization that works best is different for everyone. Some people can work with mathmatics -- a fraction or percentage of the point they naturally focus in on, or a multiple of it -- while some people find it easier to think in terms of looking at or hearing something a certain distance away. Your base range -- the point in time you naturally look for -- seems to be about ten years in the past. I want you to try for half that: five years, also on Thomas."  
  
"Yessir," the girls said nervously.  
  
"Ready state. Begin." They fell into their trance state, and their globes formed in the air. Hiei watched, silent, as Padma's flickered between images of a couple of Gryffindors in the common room above -- two first years who'd managed to claim the couch, the picture centering uncertainly on one, then the other, as they wrestled over possession of a pillow -- and an image of Dean, sketching near a window on the far side of the room.  
  
Parvati's sphere remained blank, glowing a misty white.  
  
A log snapped and fell in the fire, showering sparks up into the chimney. To soar like a spark... He stifled a smirk. Swipe Yuusuke's broom and train with the Bludgers... perhaps the human would fire Shotgun at him. He hadn't gotten a decent amount of training -- a sparring match, or even a fight -- since he'd gotten roped into this stupid mission. How could he stay sharp when he was stuck babysitting?  
  
The image wavered -- channel-surfing, in some slang parlance embedded in his earring. Dean, the first years, a third year swiping a pillow, Dean, a static-filled flicker, Dean... Padma was starting to sweat, her brow furrowing, but the picture remained on the Thomas boy, though it fuzzed and panned like Kurama's old television.  
  
The mist in Parvati's globe began to clear, showing a little first-year boy, recognizably Dean. The Sorting Hat was on his head.  
  
"Remember this feeling," Hiei said, voice pitched to not break their concentration. "Whatever you're doing to make this work, remember how it feels for next time. Now let it go."  
  
They let their balls pop with identical sighs of relief. Hiei frowned at the exhaustion in those sighs. "Go."  
  
"Yessir!" they squeaked, bolting.  
  
Hiei rolled his eyes. Easily intimidated, weak, slow, baby humans... he needed a distraction. Or something.  
  
 _Definitely going to swipe his broom._  
  



	26. Snowstorm

  
  
  
Friday dawned late on a heavy snowstorm. Wind whipped through the Grampians and over the lake, whistling in high-pitched, eerie gusts past the windows and through the courtyards of Hogwarts. It carried swirls of snow with it: fat, wet, slushy flakes that soaked through all but the thickest cloaks and scarves.  
  
Harry, who never had enough time for a shower between weapons practice and lunch, stayed a slight distance away from the rest of his dormmates as they left Hermione and Neville brewing hot chocolate in the common room -- Neville's idea, something the entire House would be glad for, but most especially the first and third years. The youngest Gryffindors had Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures today. Neville didn't really need the help, but Hermione was lying in wait for the Weasley twins, to threaten them with all sorts of dire hexes if they dared to boobytrap or spike the chocolate.  
  
They clattered and shoved their way up the stairs in Gryffindor Tower, and Seamus opened the door to the 5th-year dorm. "Oh HELL--" he moaned, rushing in. "What idiot left the window open?"  
  
The other boys swarmed into the freezing room, as Seamus jerked the window shut. Snow had soaked into the curtains and coverings of Yuusuke and Harry's beds. Harry tried to brush the melting stuff from his pillow -- why, oh WHY had he left the curtains hanging open today? -- and Ron shook it from the blankets.  
  
Kuwabara dumped more coal in the stove. "Where's the shrimp when you need him?" he grumbled.  
  
"Who knows?" Yuusuke answered, thumping his own pillows harder than he needed to and throwing them back on his bed. He yanked the nightstand out of the slushy puddle it stood in, and paused. "Did one of you guys move my broom?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Not me."  
  
"Then..." Yuusuke's voice trailed off. Harry glanced up in time to see the other boy's gaze flick from the window to the place where his left his broom and back. "That little--!"  
  
Kuwabara set the coal bucket down with a clank. "What is it?"  
  
Yuusuke stomped to the window and threw it wide open once more. Frigid air gusted back into the room.  
  
"Hey--!"  
  
"Oi--!"  
  
"Cut it out--!"  
  
"HIEI, YOU BASTARD!" he yelled, leaning out the window into the blowing snow.  
  
"Close the window!" Seamus shouted.  
  
Yuusuke ignored him. "GIMME BACK MY BROOM!"  
  
Harry caught the furious boy by the back of the shirt before he fell headfirst from the room. "Whoa, hey! What makes you think he can hear you?" And what makes you think it's him?  
  
"Oh, he can hear me JUST fine," Yuusuke seethed. "He left the goddamn window open..."  
  
That makes NO sense, Harry thought. Ron reached over and helped push Yuusuke back, closing the window. "What makes you think Hiei's got your broom?" the redhead asked.  
  
"Nobody else would go flying in a blizzard," Yuusuke answered, as if it was obvious.  
  
"But--"  
  
Yuusuke jerked loose from their grasp, pivoting on his heel, and stormed from the room. Harry glanced around, hoping to convince Kuwabara to help calm Yuusuke down.  
  
Kuwabara was also gone.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hiei fought the wind for control of his -- er, Yuusuke's -- broom, as he flew high above the broad fields between the school and the Forest. Snow whirled and blew in his eyes, nearly at whiteout conditions, but all it affected was his visibility.  
  
The frigid soaking he was getting would've doused any fire demon... except him. One of the only perks of being half Ice Maiden was his inability to be bothered by snow and ice (the equinox didn't count: that was about magical influences, not actual weather). Being wet and cold was somewhat refreshing, in fact. He liked it better than being sooty and dry.  
  
"Hiei!" Yuusuke's voice floated up to him on the blustery winds, nearly drowned out in the hollow rush of air. "Teme!"  
  
Hiei glanced down, squinting through whirling white. Two splotches of black, one dabbed with orange, floundered towards him through the snow.  
  
"Get down here so I can kick your ass!" Yuusuke yelled, his fist waving.  
  
"Can't shoot this far?" Hiei shouted back, goading him. Fire already, Urameshi -- I'm BORED.  
  
"The hell I can't! Get off MY broom so I can shoot!"  
  
That's what's stopping him? That he might damage his broom? Hiei sneered.  
  
Flying over to the high walls of the school, Yuusuke and Kuwabara kicking up snow as they ran in his wake, Hiei landed next to a statue on the roof. He dismounted and set the broom in the outstretched stone arms.  
  
"What are you doing?!"  
  
Hiei leapt from the roof, landing several meters before Yuusuke. "Safekeeping."  
  
"Bring it back down here!"  
  
Hiei smirked. "Make me."  
  
"I, the great Kuwabara Kazuma, will make you, shrimp!" Kuwabara leapt at Hiei, fists swinging. Hiei darted away.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
From his place in the open doorframe of the school, with a perfect ringside view of the sudden fight, Harry blinked. Had Hiei just Apparated--?! On school grounds--?! He couldn't---!  
  
Kuwabara swung again, and again, Hiei flickered and vanished, reappearing a couple of feet away.  
  
"That's not possible... what's he DOING?" Ron asked, sounding every bit as shocked as Harry felt.  
  
Hiei shot a dark look at Kuwabara. "Go away. This isn't between us."  
  
"Teme--!"  
  
"No." Yuusuke's hand shot out, a gesture clearly stating 'stay out of this'. "This is between me... and Hiei." Kuwabara backed off immediately. Yuusuke half-smirked at Hiei. "If you wanted a fight, why didn't you just SAY so?"  
  
"More fun this way," Hiei answered, an identical expression on his face.  
  
"You've been spending WAY too much time with Kurama..." Yuusuke muttered. Then he blurred into motion and vanished.  
  
"Him TOO?!" Ron squawked, echoing Harry's thoughts as Hiei also vanished. The pair reappeared a split second later, high in the air and twisting towards the ground, before disappearing again. "They can't... they just can't..." Ron started to moan.  
  
They can't be Apparating. They can't be-- so how ARE they moving--? Harry squinted, focusing on Hiei, and this time the flicker of the boy's disappearance seemed to last a split second longer, blurring in the direction he reappeared in. Snow churned in his wake.  
  
That's it! Harry's gaze fell to the snow-covered ground. Trails of footprints zipped through it, new tracks laying themselves down in the instants between each boy's 'Apparation". They aren't Apparating at all... they're moving too fast to be seen! He would've thought 'invisible', except for the speed the footprints appeared at.  
  
Another blur as Hiei disappeared, and this time Harry thought he saw a flicker of black over the new trail. Almost too fast to be seen, Harry revised.  
  
"They're running," he said aloud, stopping Ron's soft, confused moaning mid-word.  
  
"What?" his best friend asked.  
  
Harry pointed. "Look at the snow. They're running... I can almost see it, in blurs."  
  
Kuwabara looked over his shoulder. "You can?" he asked. Harry nodded. "How many hits did Yuusuke just try?"  
  
"He tried to hit?" Harry asked blankly. He couldn't see THAT much detail.  
  
"Yup. I counted seven."  
  
Ron peered closer. "I can't... wait, they're kind of blurring when they vanish. Is that what you mean, Harry?"  
  
"Sort of."  
  
Abruptly, both boys reappeared, grinning. Yuusuke's right fist was in Hiei's left hand, near the shorter boy's stomach; Hiei's bandaged right wrist was caught in Yuusuke's left hand, poised to deliver a chop to the neck.  
  
"NOW can I have my broom back?"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Sunday had turned into Monday scant hours ago, and the castle rested uneasily. A silvery moon hung high overhead, the night clear and brilliant with stars. Light reflected from every flat surface and the shallow, frozen cove of the lake, all mounded with shimmering drifts of snow. The lightest sleepers within the castle lay awake in their beds; the majority of the castle tossed and turned in their sleep, behind their bedcurtains. The few insomniacs, rarely able to sleep in normal darkness, roamed the halls on restless, silent feet.  
  
It was this light, though, shining through the tightly shut windows of the Slytherin dorms and past their bedcurtains, that masked the glow from the monitorleaves of Kurama's spyeye.  
  
Kurama bit his lip as his vines stirred Suzuki's potion one last time. It was dangerous... so dangerous... but he couldn't change tonight's sleeplessness any more than he could change the brewing time of Past Life. None of his sleepflowers lasted less than 24 hours, and all of them had side effects: headaches, aftertastes, miscontrol of magic, and memory loss, so he couldn't drug his roommates, not without anyone realizing. I really should try to crossbreed an indetectable one sometime, he mused, but it had never really been important enough to waste years experimenting. It wasn't as if he'd ever cared before; knock the sentries out, take the valuables, be long gone and days away with everything sold by the time anyone woke.  
  
But that was then. This was a nuisance now.  
  
Vines coiled around his hands, he drew his index finger down slowly, and watched as the last, key ingredient -- the peachpit-like Makai seed, all traces of chocolate carefully scrubbed away -- plopped into the gray, lumpy sludge. It instantly turned into a clear, syrupy juice, the seed bobbing to the top.  
  
Kurama slowly let out a breath. It looked to have come out right, though he would have to wait and check the actual color in daylight. The feyflower over his cauldron wasn't bright enough.  
  
He ran though Suzuki's instructions in his mind. At this point, the potion was relatively stable. It would keep for months, even years if stored properly in stoppered glass bottles (not corked: the corkwood would soak up the potion like a sponge and revert to a twig, which obviously wouldn't actually keep the bottle closed). A bit of rock dust or dirt sifting into the cauldron at this point would do nothing.  
  
The question is, Kurama thought, do I leave it until a safer point in time -- and risk having to drink a bit of dirt with it when I do use it, ick -- or do I bottle it now?  
  
He glanced at the other spyeye leaves, hung slightly above his head and angled carefully. The hallway outside remained empty; Malfoy's seat in the common room was empty -- Kurama quickly panned across the room, finding the blonde had moved closer to the fire -- and Snape's patrol route should have him near the library. Kurama raised a hand and jiggled the toggle on his third leaf.  
  
The professor wasn't there.  
  
Kurama flicked his vines back into the depths of his bed's canopy, sending a curt command to his spyeyes as he eased silently down to lie flat. The soft glow of the leaves faded away slowly -- snapping the monitors off, even as faint as their light was, would be instantly noticeable to any possible observer. And with Snape off his radar, possibly anywhere in the castle...  
  
Secrecy first. Bottling later.  
  
Kurama shut his eyes and willed himself to sleep.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
McGonagall took names on Wednesday. Harry wrote his down, as did Ron and Hermione -- she flat-out refused to leave the library this year, and Ron never left Harry alone for Christmas.  
  
All of the transfer students were staying as well.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Thursday afternoon, after half-carrying Neville back to Gryffindor Tower -- the stubborn kid had tried to repeat last week's surge of power, and had nearly knocked himself unconscious before Kurama could rein him in -- Kurama hurried to the greenhouses and let himself into number one.  
  
Greenhouse One was the home of the bottom-level plants used in the first-year fall term. The most dangerous plants in here were Gigglegorse, which induced a quick burst of laughter from people who smelled it, and Impish Snare, a weak relative of Devil's Snare.  
  
Today, the Impish Snare had a firm grip on a little first-year boy, who began kicking and yelling the instant he saw Kurama. "No! Go 'way, ye Slytherin bastard!"  
  
Kurama took note of the Gryffindor tie, and sighed. Stupid, stupid House system... Dodging kicks, he knelt next to the child and began briskly unlooping the vines. "What ever possessed you to come this close to a snare of any sort without your wand out?" he asked, not expecting an answer. He didn't get one, the boy frozen, tense with suspiscion as he realized he was being set loose.  
  
A familiar weight yanked at Kurama's hair, as he finished with the boy's arms and turned to untangling his legs. Kurama smiled. The wood sprite had found him quickly.  
  
"There you are," he murmured. "Come up and say hello." Maybe the stupid sprite would quit pulling his hair -- a sharp tug, the bowtruckle squirming under his ponytail, twisting locks of Kurama's hair in with its grip on his robes -- or not.  
  
"What's that?" the child asked, startled out of his sullen, automatic distrust of Slytherins.  
  
"A bowtruckle," Kurama replied. "It's been in this greenhouse since September."  
  
"Cor'..." the boy breathed. "I thought those things did nae like humans."  
  
"This one seems to think I'm a tree." He pulled on the vine looped around the boy's waist. "Twist and step out." The boy obeyed, freeing himself.  
  
"What's your name?" Kurama asked, tossing the vine back into the mass of Impish Snare.  
  
"Kenneth."  
  
"And what class are you missing, Kenneth?"  
  
The child gulped, two bright spots of color rising in his cheeks. "Defense," he answered weakly.  
  
At least it wasn't Potions. Snape was far scarier and less fair than Genkai. Kurama smiled. "I need to speak to Professor Genkai anyway. I'll walk you there."  
  
"Dinna ye need tae do something in here?" Kenneth asked quickly.  
  
Observant, aren't you. "I have." Kurama reached up to his shoulder, brushing a finger along the bowtruckle's twiglike arm. "I picked up this little fellow."  
  
"Oh." Kurama put a firm hand on Kenneth's shoulder, and guided him from the greenhouse and back into the castle proper.  
  
Kenneth sulked all the way to the Defense room's open door, where Kurama tapped a knock. Genkai glanced up, pausing mid-sentence.  
  
"Yes?" she asked.  
  
"Special delivery, Professor," Kurama said, giving Kenneth a gentle push into the room. Before too much attention fell on him, though, Kurama added, "And can I talk to you for a moment?"  
  
Genkai left the room, shutting the door most of the way behind her. "What is it, Minamino?"  
  
Kurama smiled in his best human-teenager manner. "Well, one, I found the boy caught in an Impish Snare -- that's why he was late to class." Genkai raised an eyebrow. "And, two, I need to check something..." His voice flattened, chilling almost imperceptably. "I might miss dinner."  
  
"It's your stomach," Genkai said flatly.  
  
Kurama took that to mean that she would cover for him if he did, and left, the bowtruckle still clinging to his hair and robes.  
  
Once outside again, he headed down towards the lake, slogging through the snow. Troublesome stuff... makes me wish I was in Tokyo, where there's rarely any. I'm leaving a trail a blind Lyxie cub could follow! And as if that wasn't bad enough... He glanced skywards. A host of green dots flittered over the Quidditch pitch. The Slytherin team could see him if he wasn't careful.  
  
He couldn't delay any longer, though.  
  
On the south side of the lake, the forest grew down to the water's edge -- not the Forbidden Forest, but a lighter, younger one that covered the hills surrounding Hogsmeade. The lake, castle, and a wide stretch of rocky meadow separated the two here, at their nearest meeting point. Kurama ducked behind one of the few large trees, and drew the necklace-and-vial from around his neck. It dangled innocently in the sunlight, filled with pinkish syrup.  
  
Kurama worked the glass stopper free.  
  
Hope this works, he thought, as he swallowed half the vial -- enough to last five hours -- and replaced it inside his shirt.  
  
He really didn't know how long it would take. Of the three times he'd taken Past Life before, the first had been in smoke form: inhaled, with near-instant effects. The second time, he'd dosed himself with the liquid before his fight with Karasu, and it had taken a good ten minutes to take effect. The third time, when he'd needed hair for his wand, he'd had the liquid again, and it had taken scarcely three minutes.  
  
Mist swirled lightly over the snow.  
  
Is this...? Had the mist happened during his fight? He couldn't remember; the psychotic demon trying to blow him up had taken up all his attention.  
  
He smirked faintly at that, leaning forward to put a hand in the snow. I sound so blasé... Abruptly, he realized his hand was large and pale, tipped with long, sharp nails, and his sleeve was gone. Fine, lightweight hair wisped against his shoulders; a quick flex of the muscles on his scalp proved his fox ears were in place.  
  
I didn't even notice the shift!  
  
Going from one natural body to another, without having to make it happen, was evidently so effortless as to give no signal. Lucky... he'd been expecting something flashier, and a bit more uncomfortable, from his memories of his fights. Perhaps that had been simply the injuries and distraction.  
  
Youko put his other hand down, going to all fours, and focused. His hands shrank, bones and muscles sliding under the skin, fur growing from it. Thick, dark pads formed from the fleshy parts of his fingertips and palm; his nose and mouth fused and lengthened into a muzzle. One tail became two, four, five. His long, beautiful hair shortened to a thick ruff.  
  
A large, silver, five-tailed fox stood next to the tree, a bowtruckle clinging to his back. With a gleeful yip, and a doglike shaking-out of his body, he flicked a tail and broke into a run.  
  
The cave where Harry and his friends had gone with the dog was surprisingly close to Hogwarts -- a single mile, over the ridge and on this side of the stream. Youko stopped next to the strongest tree with a view of the cave, and nudged the bowtruckle off his back. Pushing with his nose, paws, and growling a couple of times, he tried to convey that he wanted the wood sprite to stay here and watch the dog.  
  
He turned away, only to feel a tug on his tail.  
  
STAY, dammit! he yelled mentally, shoving the answer at the sprite with his magic backing it up. Watch black-dog!  
  
The bowtruckle dropped his tail, staring in wide-eyed astonishment at the fox. Then, slowly, it pointed at the tree, then the cave.  
  
keek? echoed through Youko's mind.  
  
If Youko had been in his humanoid form, his jaw would've dropped. I don't believe it. They're close enough to actual plants that I can make myself understood?! Oh, what he could DO with this... a possible network of informers, like Hiei's!  
  
 _Stay here. Spy on the black dog I'm going to see right now._  
  
 _???? Stay. Go see dog. ???_  
  
Confusion rang through the two contradictory concepts. Youko sighed -- the command had been too complex. _Stay. Watch dog._  
  
 _Stay. Watch dog._ His bowtruckle happily climbed into the tree, orders confirmed.  
  
Youko edged down the slope, circling the cave site. He sniffed -- human-scent, all over, mixed with a bit of dog-scent: both male, adult, not-elderly, and fresh. Recalling the faint tinge of cat-scent around McGonagall, Youko would bet that Harry's "dog" was an Animagus.  
  
There were exactly two reasons Youko could think of for an Animagus to be camping out in the winter. One, eccentricity. Despite how offbeat some wizards seemed to be, Youko seriously doubted that one, though. The other choice was necessity -- he couldn't live among people. He wasn't spying or errand-running, not if he'd stayed here as long as the scent told Youko he had. So... that left hiding. So the question was, was he hiding from Voldemort, or from the law? .... or both?  
  
And who was he to Harry?  
  



	27. Chances to...

  
  
Somewhat more than a week later, the Hogwarts Express left, taking students home for the winter holidays. Most of the castle was left empty -- nearly everybody was going home, making up for going to the Yule Ball last Christmas.  
  
Rather than seeing his classmates off, Kurama snuck off after breakfast, stealing through the pre-dawn light just as he had last week. He made his way back to the cave as Youko the fox, and scratched at the base of the strong tree.  
  
The bowtruckle popped its head out of its nest, and concepts flickered into Youko's mind, accompanied by images that didn't mesh with an animal's visual cortex. Weight-substenance formed a place for life-home to take root (the ground?) rising and arching overhead (the mouth of the cave?). And inside, in the empty hot-dead-space -- the cavern proper, with a tiny firepit -- the wriggly-furry-beast called "dog" stretched, shifted, grew into the wriggly-nonfurry-beast called "man", overlaid with the distinct noncolors of one with magic.  
  
Youko whuffed, and blinked, shaking the alien thought patterns away. What a strange experience... I was lucky to understand any of it! And even luckier to have caught the most eccentric sprite around -- how many wood sprites would get within smelling distance of a campfire, no matter how small and feeble?  
  
Good sprite, Youko thought to the bowtruckle. It was a very good sprite, but the information hadn't been quite good enough. He needed an actual face, if he couldn't manage to get a name. And now that the dog was confirmed to be only human...  
  
Lifting his hind leg, Youko scratched behind his ear. A tiny seed fell to the ground, and he pressed it into the earth with a paw. This time, he focused on the roots of the spyeye, growing a runner under the ground and into the cave. At the far end, a tap of power sent a shoot burrowing to the surface. It flowered a bare half-centimeter above the surface, leaving just enough leeway to angle the lens away from the ceiling. On this end, Youko tangled the roots in with the bowtruckle's tree, and drew a single leaf to the surface, mixing it in with those shed by the tree through the autumn.  
  
He batted at the toggleknob, turning the monitor on. As his bowtruckle looked over his shoulder, he dialed up the sensitivity, until he had a viewable -- though grainy -- image.  
  
The dog-mage huddled near his makeshift hearth, clutching a too-small cloak around himself with one hand. In the other, he held a sandwich of some sort, eating it greedily.  
  
He was a dark-haired man of perhaps fifty human years, his eyes sunken in with pain and starvation. A scraggly, tangled beard covered the lower parts of his face, not adequately hiding the lack of color or flesh in his cheeks. As Youko studied the image, he slowly discerned that the robes under the cloak hung loosely on a gaunt body, and were ragged and gray with filth.  
  
Youko carefully studied the face, memorizing it so that he could look for it later in the library. Just as he began to feel confidant that he would recognize it, he heard a branch snap behind him, and prudently began to lope back towards the school.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry had slipped away while the others were distracted, taking the opportunity to send Crookshanks with another sackful of food for Sirius. He'd then found a warm niche in the Owlery, and tucked himself in to pen a letter.  
  
 _Dear Remus -_  
  
 _How are you? Hermione and Ron say hi, as do Snuffles and Crookshanks and everybody._  
  
 _School is going alright this year. The last Quidditch match was wicked -- Hufflepuff put up a really good fight against Ravenclaw, coming out 110-200. Their new Chaser transferred from Japan, and she's really, really scary on a broom. Can't wait to play them this year!_  
  
 _We went to Hogsmeade yesterday. It was brilliant! They've got some new candies at Honeydukes, black licorice that makes you bark like a dog, and we bought a lot. Not as much as Hiei (that's one of the other students from Japan; he's in our dorm), but enough to make Hermione cringe. I think she's going to add toothbrushes to our stockings this year._  
  
 _My classes are going well (except Divination...and Potions is Potions)-- I knew you'd want to know about that. Ron's are going almost as well, though for some weird reason the Defense professor keeps assigning him chess for homework. Hermione's grades are, as usual, top marks._  
  
 _Happy holidays!_  
  
 _-Harry_  
  
He tied the letter to Hedwig's leg. "To Remus Lupin," he murmured, stroking her feathers gently. "Go."  
  
She flew off.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Later that afternoon in the library, Kurama set aside yet another Hogwarts yearbook. Failure, again. There was nobody who looked even the slightest bit like the dog-man inside the cave.  
  
The Animagus registry had been, unsurprisingly, no help at all. Of the witches and wizards on it, the only dog-mage was a woman who turned into a miniature poodle. But Kurama had seriously doubted it would be so easy. Half the point of turning into an animal was to move about undetected; registered animagii could only wander the Muggle world without being recognized. Considering the prejudice, distaste, and outright fear of Muggles that was standard in Western wizarding culture, most wizards wouldn't want to do that. The proof of this reasoning had come when Kurama had seen the size of the list -- barely a hundred names, far less than half of what there should have been. Chances were Harry's dog was unregistered.  
  
And he'd been right. Which had led him to the Hogwarts yearbooks, in the hopes that the dog-mage had been a graduate. He'd started with 1960, about the right time for a 50-year-old to be at Hogwarts, and moved forward from there. But he was into the 1970's, without recognizing anybody except Lucius Malfoy and various professors. Surely the haggard man he'd seen couldn't be that young---?  
  
He lifted the next in the stack, 1975, and began to leaf through it. More people he recognized in some fashion: Snape, in the background of a library snapshot. On the next page, a taller, dark-eyed, scarless Harry. Unmistakeably Harry's father, Kurama thought, though his attitude is that of an attention-seeker, unlike his son.  
  
The boy teasingly ruffled the hair of another, sickly-looking boy, neither looking into the camera as the thin boy growled playfully and sent his ink-filled quill chasing Harry's father from the scene. Kurama went to flip the page, when a black-haired boy scooped up the thin one, tickling mercilessly, and their faces flashed towards the camera.  
  
It was the dog-mage. Barely recognizeable, he was fifteen or sixteen years old, well-fed, clean, with joy and charisma radiating from even his mere photograph. Kurama's eyes fell to the caption.  
  
James Potter. Remus Lupin. Sirius Black.  
  
Astronomy class labeled the brightest true-star 'Sirius', and called it the Dog Star. Young Black would've probably had that firmly stuck in his mind long before he entered Hogwarts. Psychology did affect core magic... Harry's dog was more than likely the man 'Sirius Black'.  
  
Now to see what information he could find on Mr. Black.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Draco had barely set foot inside Malfoy Manor when a house elf popped up before him. His nose wrinkled in distaste as the elf cowered at his feet.  
  
He'd been travelling all day, since he was finally old enough to travel alone. But Malfoy Manor was in Wiltshire, far west of London, and getting home required taking the Express to King's Cross, then taking the 'Gate to Platform 5 and 2/3rds at London Paddington, to catch the Bristol Evening Express. Then he had to 'Gate to the carriagehouse outside town, and after all that it was still a two-hour ride home. He desperately wanted a bath, a decent meal, his bed, and his Apparation license. Not necessarily in that order. And a house elf dared to stop him from getting the first three?  
  
"What?" he snapped, well aware it wouldn't speak without permission.  
  
"Please, sirs," the elf squeaked, rubbing bandaged hands together, "Masters is wantings young Masters in the parlor immediately, sirs."  
  
"Can't it wait?" Draco muttered.  
  
"Masters was most insistent, sirs," the elf whimpered.  
  
Draco kicked it. Stupid creature couldn't see that was a rhetorical question...? He sighed and strode wearily to the parlor. It was a fine line between unseemly, sulky, insubordinate trudging, and the proper, put-upon manner that showed how very polite he was being in the face of unreasonable demands, but he walked that line well.  
  
He opened the door, stepped inside, and his exhaustion puffed into nothingness under a surge of adrenaline. His father was there, yes, but so was Voldemort. Draco promptly bowed, against his well-bred, well-trained Malfoy pride and dignity. He crumpled those emotions into a tiny ball, picturing them stuffed into the deepest Gringotts' vault in Britain, buried under the paramount importance of his pain-free survival.  
  
"My Lord," he murmured.  
  
Voldemort waved him to a nearby chair -- a delicate mahogany monstrosity, all lacy carvings and a tiny, expensively embroidered seat. Draco sat gingerly, unsure the chair could actually bear weight. No one ever used it.  
  
"Tea?" the Dark Lord offered, gesturing at a nearby tray.  
  
"If it pleases you, Lord," Draco replied. He'd learned that answer quickly enough over the summer. A Death Eater, whether initiated yet or not, did not dictate to the Dark Lord on any matter... even one so minor as whether or not he would like tea.  
  
Draco supposed this was why none of them questioned Voldemort's fixation on Potter.  
  
Voldemort nodded his approval, and poured tea for both himself and Draco. Acting the gracious host, rather than my father's guest. Power play -- a display that he is master, not us, Draco noted absently.  
  
"Milk? Sugar?"  
  
"If it pleases you, Lord."  
  
Voldemort handed Draco a cup. Draco waited, letting his tea cool, as Voldemort made himself a cup. Only after the Dark Lord had taken a sip did Draco take his own.  
  
"You are easily the most observant of my children still in school," Voldemort said. Draco inclined his head in mute acceptance of the comment. "Tell me of the new professor, and her students."  
  
Draco blinked in surprise, instantly embarrassed at his lapse. Of course Voldemort would want to know about them -- the famous Genkai and her handpicked protegés. Draco should've used all that time getting home to set his observations of them in some semblence of order.  
  
"There are eight people, total," he said slowly, trying to buy some time. "Professor Genkai, three Gryffindors: Yuusuke Urameshi, Kazuma Kuwabara, and Hiei Jaganshi, two Hufflepuffs: Yukina Koorime and Botan Shinime, a Ravenclaw: Keiko Yukimura, and a Slytherin: Kurama Minamino." That set out who was who, at the least.  
  
"In class, Genkai focuses on tactics, the nature of magic, and the Three Worlds. Much of the subject is centered on demons, demon culture, and surviving an encounter with one. She claims the vast majority of Dark practitioners either are demons, or are bound to what passes for laws and morals among demons." Draco wasn't quite sure he wanted to believe that.  
  
"She spent the first month on core magic, but after that, she seems to have left the actual learning of it to out-of-class tutoring." Which wasn't really the burden that it could've been. Draco liked making crystals. Perhaps that was part of it being core magic... Crabbe and Goyle had liked Muggle-style fighting, even before all this. And Draco was getting distracted from the subject, which was not good.  
  
"Genkai is a strict professor, with no--" he thought to say 'respect for', but that wasn't quite right, "--interest in maintaining House boundaries. She seems rather determined to break them, in fact. This disregard for social structure carries across into other areas, as well; her chosen heir, Urameshi, and the Ravenclaw girl are Muggleborn." There would be no chance of swaying her to wizard supremacy... probably no chance of swaying her to Voldemort's service at all.  
  
"Tell me of the Slytherin," Voldemort commanded, dismissing the two Mudbloods.  
  
Draco was unsurprised at this order. Slytherins were prime candidates for Dark magic, for many reasons. "A plant controller; I would venture to say a master, despite his age. He sleeps with Devil's Snare in his bedcurtains, and his roses cut through warded stone, when a Blasting Charm won't." And if that wasn't good evidence, nothing was. "He has demon hair in his wand--"  
  
"Demon hair?" Voldemort repeated.  
  
"Yes, Lord." Hah, surprised him! "But he claims he wishes only to make friends, though I'm not entirely certain who with. He was on good terms with Potter before he was Sorted, and is pointedly nonhostile to all the students." But that core of demon hair... Draco didn't need to tell about his encounter with Kurama's Devil's Snare to prove that there was something Dark about the other boy. His wand alone was proof enough, if you noticed. "He remains on good terms with the other transfer students, particularly Jaganshi. He sits with him in Potions and at games, went to Hogsmeade with him, and comes to meals half the time with him. He even invites Jaganshi to the dorm." Draco barely managed to keep his tone level. A GRYFFINDOR in his DORM... "I don't think you can get Minamino without taking Jaganshi." Oops, he'd just drawn a conclusion for the Dark Lord.  
  
Voldemort set his tea aside, lacing his fingers together and -- fortunately -- overlooking the tiny lapse. "Tell me of this Jaganshi, then."  
  
"Dark." The word popped out of Draco's mouth, almost involuntarily, and Voldemort's eyebrow rose. "A swordsmaster, seems to hold some power with fire--" The broom test, the very first day, indicated that. None of the rumors mentioned it, though, so Draco was fairly sure not too many other people had realized it. "-- definitely holds no respect for social status." How had Minamino put it? "He barely tolerates wizards, much less Muggles." Come to think of it, he could be a great Death Eater. Draco had to block that line of thought quickly -- HE was supposed to be the great one, not some upstart foreign brat. Fortunately, Jaganshi came with his own glaring flaw.  
  
"His sister, though, is fascinated by them." The girl was even taking Muggle Studies.  
  
"She is your core magic tutor, is she not?" Voldemort asked.  
  
"Yes, Lord."  
  
"How seriously does he take their relationship?"  
  
"Very, Lord." This was going exactly where Draco wanted. "He tries to hide it, but he is devoted to her." Enough so that he carried her from burning buildings when she was perfectly capable of running, and named his cat after her. Enough so that he'd never join the Death Eaters, because it would upset her. Draco's position was secure.  
  
"She is the lynchpin, then," Voldemort mused. "You will watch her. Attempt to convert her to our cause; gain her trust, hunt for weaknesses, find chances for us to take her."  
  
Damn, it backfired! "As you command, Lord," Draco said.  
  



	28. Holiday Style

  
  
Sometime in the early daylight hours (shortly after dawn, but before lunch), Kurama lounged in the front hall, idly growing and regressing a morning glory plant. It twined around his fingers and hand, lacing into intricate patterns before bursting into bloom, then shrinking away to a seed.  
  
He'd avoided such absent fiddling during the term. Such displays tended to make people nervous, or jealous, or foolish enough to try it for themselves -- this took a master's control and delicacy, and had the added risk of cutting off circulation or even fingers if done wrong. So he hadn't done it. But now that nearly everybody was gone, the likelihood of being seen was near-zero.  
  
Besides, he was bored.  
  
His attempt at a celtic knot fell apart, the vine knotting itself gleefully around his wrist. He sighed, giving it an experimental tug. The knot was too well-tangled to pick apart, the branches having grown and twisted together with no order. He snapped the stem, so it wouldn't slice into his arm when he pulled his power back in.  
  
The front doors slammed open, a blast of frigid air ushering Professor Hagrid into the building. Kurama ducked a bit further into the shadows, away from the wind, as the professor stamped his feet on the mat to dislodge the snow. There was a dark, spiky mass behind him -- Kurama squinted -- a tree? A freshly-cut pine, some eight meters tall and half that wide, to be precise. Why...? Oh. Right.  
  
A Christmas tree.  
  
He'd never seen one being put up... so as the professor heaved the trunk back up and dragged the tree past the stairs, Kurama slid from his niche and followed. He was led to the Great Hall, intimidatingly empty at the moment: three of the student tables had been removed, leaving just one sitting, alone and dwarfed, in the center of the room.  
  
Hagrid lugged the tree over to a metal contraption in the corner, one of a dozen scattered along the sides of the room. It looked like a shallow bowl of water bolted under a tripod-and-ring contraption. When Hagrid tipped the pine up and set the trunk into the ring, its purpose become clear: a tree stand.  
  
"You're going to put a dozen of those up?" Kurama blurted, still immersed in his 'human teenager' role.  
  
Hagrid spun, nearly dropping the tree in surprise. His shock-wide eyes narrowed when they fell on Kurama. "'Course I am," he said cheerfully. "Do it every year."  
  
"I'm sorry," Kurama quickly apologized. Hagrid's eyes flew wide again. "I didn't mean to startle you, or... or anything," he finished lamely.  
  
"Tha's all right," Hagrid assured him, smiling a bit uncertainly.  
  
He's nice, Kurama abruptly realized. He has no reason to be polite to Slytherins, and certainly has the capability to be giantishly mule-headed to match that half-giant strength and stature, but... he's not. He's treating me like... a student who surprised him, not a Slytherin who hates him.  
  
... I can work with this.  
  
"Would you mind if I helped?" Kurama asked, stepping forward.  
  
Hagrid visibly bit back a laugh. "Yeh're a mite small teh be doing this," he answered, no sting in the words. "And 'tis a long, cold walk teh the pines."  
  
Kurama smiled, reaching out to tug at a branch. "Then I really can help you out," he told the half-giant. "There's a pinecone about halfway up that hasn't lost all its seeds. Please let me help?" He turned a pleading gaze on Hagrid. "Genkai almost never lets me grow trees -- says too many mess up the garden's Feng Shui."  
  
"Fung what?"  
  
"A Chinese concept... nevermind." Kurama really didn't want to try to explain that branch of magic. "So can I help?"  
  
Hagrid shrugged indulgently. "If you really want teh, I won't be stoppin' yeh."  
  
"Thanks!" Kurama triggered the pinecone to detach from its branch -- it was too far up to reach -- and it fell into his hand as Hagrid started to turn away. Another pinch of power opened the cone more fully in his hand, and he tugged the seed's papery coating free, shucking the nut itself into his free hand. The professor was a step away now, heading back towards the door, and lifted his foot for another.  
  
Kurama sprouted the seed, pushing a year's worth of growth into a split second. Two years... Hagrid set his foot down, finishing his second step. "Professor," Kurama called, shifting his grip to cradle the sapling.  
  
The professor glanced back over his shoulder. Then his jaw dropped. Kurama offered him the growing young tree -- now more than half Kurama's size, filling out nicely and getting too awkward for the youko to hold. "Would you mind? It won't grow right if I lay it on the floor."  
  
Gaping, Hagrid mutely took hold of the lower part of the trunk, and Kurama continued condensing years' worth of growth into minutes. Soon, this tree was nearly as large as the original. "Do you want it the same size as the first, or different?" Kurama asked brightly.  
  
"Er... the same size'll be fine..." Hagrid said.  
  
"Okay." Kurama added another few centimeter's height to his tree, then twisted his power and locked the tree's growth into place -- if he didn't, it would revert to a seed seconds after he let go. He tugged a fully-laden pinecone from a nearby branch, then let Hagrid take the tree away.  
  
"Yeh okay fer more?" Hagrid asked, setting the trunk into the second stand.  
  
"Sure," Kurama murmured, already starting another sapling. "I could go all day."  
  
"Tha's great," Hagrid said. "Coz we've got a lot 'o work ahead 'o us."  
  
Us, Kurama thought. Take that, Slytherin reputation!  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Snow Tsunami!" Yukina yelled.  
  
"ACK!" Harry managed to yelp, before being knocked off his feet and buried under a three-foot wave of slush. Soaked and freezing, he flailed a couple of times and sputtered to the surface.  
  
"Uncle!" Ron called out. "We surrender!"  
  
"We do NOT!" Yuusuke shouted. Botan's snowball smacked him in the face, sending him sprawling onto the little 3rd-year girl that filled out the Gryffindor team. He quickly rolled away and pulled her to sit up. "Er, waving the white flag here -- it is white, right?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione told him. "White for surrender."  
  
Yuusuke glanced away in time to see Keiko ready with another snowball. "ACK! We give up, we give up!"  
  
Keiko pouted at him, as the rest of the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw team (all six of them) cheered.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The ball was in its early stages by the time Draco made it downstairs, thus managing to avoid any attempts at a Malfoy Family Recieving Line.  
  
"Minister! So glad you could make it!" Narcissa beamed, allowing Fudge to take her hand and bow over it. She stood alone -- her annual attempt at the 'Line had failed again. Score: Narcissa - 5, Draco and Lucius - 10.  
  
"Delighted to be here, Lady Malfoy, simply delighted," he answered, flashing the smile that had won him the election. "And might I be so bold as to say how lovely you look tonight?"  
  
Mrs. Fudge simpered up at Draco's mother. "Gray is such a wonderful color on you, Narcissa, dear. I must have the name of your tailor."  
  
"But it's Frederico -- the sweet fellow from Spain, surely you know him!"  
  
"Oh, of course, how very silly of me..."  
  
Draco ducked away before his mother could notice him. The Minister himself was a decent sort -- for a grasping, jumped-up man with more charisma than brains -- but his wife had an annoying, reedy voice, and a bad habit of babying anyone under the age of seventeen. He really didn't want to get his cheek pinched or his perfectly-coiffed head patted.  
  
He passed a couple of human waiters circulating the lesser ballroom, taking a glass of mulled cider and several chocolate-dipped strawberries for himself, and made his way towards the growing cluster of teens and recent Hogwarts graduates.  
  
"Draco, where have you been?" Pansy asked, hands on her hips, every inch the offended woman. She wore pink silk robes, of a much more stylish and flattering cut than the horrible school uniform.  
  
Draco delivered a courtly bow, of the proper degree and flourish to be teasing, though he had to modify it a bit to avoid spilling his drink. "I had far more difficulty than I expected," he said, "preparing myself to be outshone by you yet again."  
  
"Flirt," Pansy laughed, taking his arm. The bright smile remained on her face as she leaned in, the others politely and discreetly taking a step back to allow them an imitation of privacy. "Did He interview you, too?" she murmured into Draco's ear.  
  
It took no effort for Draco to let his expression fall into more amusement, as if Pansy had just said something Slytherin-ly sweet. "Naturally. Who'd you point him at?"  
  
"The tall one and the little girl," Pansy replied. "He's visibly stupid and headstrong -- I figured he'd be a good dog, so to speak, if he was kept on a tight leash."  
  
"Hence the girl," Draco finished. Kuwabara probably would do anything for Koorime, and be great at it if he was kept under tight control -- like Draco kept Crabbe and Goyle. "I pointed Him at her, too, but that was for the hold over the brat and -- through him -- the viper." Pansy would know who he meant: Jaganshi and Minamino.  
  
"You're so clever, Draco," Pansy simpered more loudly, allowing it to be heard. Conversation, over.  
  
"I know, aren't I?" Draco replied arrogantly.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The sky was growing dark, the sun low on the horizon, when Kurama reached the Fat Lady's portrait early Thursday afternoon.  
  
She blinked, eyeing him suspisciously, but when Kurama didn't leave, she drew herself up and asked, "Password?"  
  
"I don't have one, Miss," Kurama told her, deliberately flattering the woman. "But could you please step inside and tell somebody that I'd like to see Hiei?"  
  
She pondered that for a moment -- apparently, students didn't simply ask the portraits to fetch someone -- then bowed her head in acknowledgement and swept regally from the painting.  
  
Minutes passed, but Kurama refused to check his watch. He had a full hour left before sunset, and everything was prepared. He'd even eaten far too much at lunch for this, but Hiei hadn't. Hiei had barely even picked at his food, leaving his chopsticks rudely stuck in his rice -- he'd only managed to get down half a cup of pumpkin juice.  
  
That was just going to make it that much harder on both of them.  
  
The Fat Lady returned to the frame, and the portrait swung partway open. Hermione poked her head out. "Minamino?" she blurted, startled. She recovered quickly. "Sorry, I thought you might be Koorime. The Fat Lady said you wanted to see Hiei?"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
Hermione looked apologetic. "I'm afraid he's taking a nap."  
  
Uhoh. "I really must insist, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione frowned. "Why?"  
  
Kurama took a firm hold of his instinctive response. She couldn't know how rude that question was... but he could answer it with the truth. "It's private."  
  
She considered that for all of a second. "I'll get him for you, then."  
  
"No!" Hermione froze at Kurama's shout. "I mean... he sets wards on his bed, always has; you'll get hurt if you try to wake him," Kurama said quickly.  
  
"Then so would you," she pointed out reasonably. Kurama could tell that she didn't believe him.  
  
"I know."  
  
"I don't believe you."  
  
"I know that, too." He waited, smiling as openly as he could get away with, and after another minute she sighed, opened the portrait door fully, and waved him through.  
  
Inside the Tower, Kurama paused for a moment, glancing around as if curious. (He wasn't, but they didn't know he'd been here before.) Red everywhere, check; roaring, cheery fire, check; Kuwabara, Yuusuke, Harry, and Ron playing cards, check; Harry and Ron staring at Kurama in considerable surprise, check...  
  
"Hey, Kurama," Yuusuke said absently, shoving a few jellybeans across the table. "Call."  
  
"This way," Hermione said sternly, leading him across the room and up a spiral staircase.  
  
"Dammit, Puu! I toldja to quit eating the stakes!" Kurama heard from below, as Hermione reached the fifth door and knocked lightly. Kurama slid past her.  
  
"Hey!" she yelped, grabbing for his arm as he pushed on the handle. He ducked her grasp and made a beeline for Hiei's bed. The curtains were closed.  
  
Kurama held Hermione back, lifted his hand, and batted the curtains aside. Hermione stifled a shriek as his hand audibly sizzled. He yanked it free and blew on it, his free hand reaching into his hair. "I hate doing that," he murmured, voice tight.  
  
"Oh Merlin... I didn't... I'm so sorry--!" Hermione stuttered, gaze pinned to the reddened flesh. "I can-- healing potion-- there's some around here someplace--!" She dashed from the room.  
  
Kurama let out a puff of pained laughter, pulling the flower from his hair. "Silly girl -- I brought my own," he murmured to the room at large. It was the work of a minute to crush the flower in his fist and rub it over the barely-perceptible burn, reducing it to not-quite-sunburn levels. Then he turned to the bed.  
  
Hiei lay curled up on top of the covers, fast asleep. Peering in at him, Kurama narrowed his eyes. The breathing was just a tad too deep, muscles perfectly slack. Hiei hadn't woken when his wards were breached.  
  
"That's what I thought," Kurama muttered, the sound also not disturbing Hiei. His hand snapped out, fingers catching and pinching Hiei's ear, hard enough to pull Hiei's head back. "Hiei! Wake up!"  
  
Hiei's nose twitched.  
  
Kurama transferred his grip to the front of Hiei's shirt and jerked him half-upright, so they were face-to--- well, jaw, since Hiei's head was back, muscles too limp in this sleep to hold his head in line with his body. "Hiei!" Kurama repeated, shaking him like he would a misbehaving kit.  
  
One of Hiei's eyes slid partway open, the half-gaze aimed blearily in Kurama's direction. "Nnn?" the little demon asked.  
  
"You. Owe. Me," Kurama said, now that he had at least a sliver of Hiei's attention.  
  
Now Hiei reacted properly, head lolling up, eyes flashing wide and focusing. "--owe--?!" Hiei echoed.  
  
"For Halloween," Kurama clarified, tugging Hiei to a full sitting position and half-off the bed. "Let's go."  
  
"Thought you were over that..." Hiei mumbled, not resisting or helping.  
  
"I never forget debts." Kurama steered Hiei to his feet, and marched him from the room. "And I'm collecting. Now."  
  
"Hate you," Hiei muttered, eyes falling closed again.  
  



	29. Yuletide Promise

  
  
Harry bolted awake in the darkness of his own bed. Again. His scar was a throbbing, jagged line of fiery heat. Again. And Voldemort had killed the unicorn. Again.  
  
Harry was getting very tired of 'again'.  
  
He shoved his bedcovers off and his curtains aside, instinctively reaching for his glasses. Remembering last time, he glanced towards Hiei's bed as he settled the lenses on his face. The curtains hung open, the bed remained empty -- good, Hiei wouldn't be bugging him this time.  
  
Feet into slippers, Invisibility Cloak over shoulders, wand in hand -- right, ready to go, then. "Lumos," Harry murmured, as he eased the door shut behind himself. He hurried down the stairs and through the common room, barely glancing at the clock as he left. The hands read: Yule; Out of Bed.  
  
The portraits lining the halls grumbled fitfully as Harry hurried through the darkened passages, the tiny light spell half-waking them. He crept more carefully down the stairs in the towering atrium -- a truly unnerving place at this hour, particularly with no moon to help him see even the outlines of the other stairs. At the second floor, Harry fled the vast, dark emptiness of the echoing chamber, relaxing slightly as he entered a corridor. Here, the walls and ceiling were at least dimly illuminated by his wand's Lumos. It was somehow better, being able to see everything that could be in his vicinity.  
  
This half of the school was uncarpeted, being the 'public' section with the classrooms and offices -- even a wizarding rug would be caked with grime and worn through in a couple of years, given the student traffic. Harry's slippers tapped faintly on the stone, and he tried to walk more lightly as he turned the corner and walked down the long, empty hall to Dumbledore's office.  
  
Now, what was the password this time...? "Wine gums," he tried. The gargoyle didn't budge. "Smarties. Truffles? Butterscotch drops." Nothing. This was really inconvenient -- what if a student needed to see him? Like, say, now? "I'm not going to stand out here all night," Harry grumbled. The urgency of the dream was fading... Harry forced it back into place. What else was there? "Snickers. Mars Bars. Everlasting Gobstoppers."  
  
The gargoyle leapt out of the way.  
  
Score one for children's books, Harry thought, as he climbed up the steps. Thank Merlin Dudley never wanted to read any of them...!  
  
The office was dark and cold tonight, the fire barely embers on the hearth, the lamps snuffed. Harry's wand easily drowned out the starlight that made the windows the only visible thing in the room. A cold draft moved through the room, cutting through Harry's Cloak and pajamas, and he clutched the fabric closer in a futile effort to warm up. "Professor Dumbledore?" Harry called.  
  
Movement against the windows of the loft, where the telescope was; a black shape against near-black sky and a rustle of cloth. "Ah, Harry..." Dumbledore's voice came, rasping through the oppressive dark. A door thumped shut; the lamp on the desk kindled, slowly casting a warm glow through the room.  
  
"Nox," Harry murmured to his wand, as the professor was revealed walking down the stairs.  
  
Dumbledore padded to the fire, casting a log on the embers, stoking the fire back to life. A wave of welcome heat poured out -- not much yet, though enough to prove the fireplace was magically enhanced. Harry slid his Cloak off and stuffed it into his pocket.  
  
"Another vision?" There was very little of the usual amusement in Dumbledore's voice... just husky weariness, the rasp of age. He sat behind the desk, thin gray robes and a nightcap taking majesty of the 'powerful sorcerer" away, leaving simply an old man dragged from what little sleep he took in these years before his final rest.  
  
Suddenly, Harry felt deeply guilty for having to heap more troubles on the headmaster. "Yessir," he mumbled, looking down at the desktop. The surface was strewn with papers and gadgets, bits of arcane debris that helped distract Harry from the idea that Dumbledore was old.  
  
"Hm... I've found it rarely helps to presume, but... was it the same vision?"  
  
"Yes." With that much established, Harry could skip the similarities. Like the dead unicorn, and all the blood. "Though there was a bonfire, this time, set to circle the area. So it was a lot easier to see everything inside the circle, though I couldn't see past the fire." So he had no idea where this might've been. "And I think I got there sooner-- Voldemort was checking some sort of scroll. There was a casting circle between me and them, so I tried going around it to see if I could recognize any of the symbols. But I couldn't."  
  
"I see..." Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Was it that you could not see the actual writings, or that you could not recognize what was being written?"  
  
"Couldn't recognize what was being written, sir," Harry answered. He'd seen a lot of weird symbols and lettering in most of his classes at one point or another (Transfiguration theory had quite a few, and Astronomy had some, which Ron and Harry had used liberally when faking the astrology unit in Divination), but he'd never seen these. Perhaps he should've taken Ancient Runes...  
  
Dumbledore pulled open a desk drawer, extracting a sheet of parchment. "Might you perhaps, be able to recreate them from memory, even though you did not recognize them?" he asked, sliding the sheet across the desk and laying a quill on top.  
  
"I could try," Harry answered dubiously. He dipped the quill into the inkwell Dumbledore offered him, set the nib just above the paper, and paused to focus on the symbols. "...um..." The images slid from his grasp, leaving a general impression of loops and dashes. "I'm losing them."  
  
The professor took this with a nearly imperceptible sigh. "I suppose it is to be expected. This is only the first time you've had a chance to look at them at any length..." he trailed off, thinking for a moment. "Perhaps you should begin keeping parchment by your bed. It is far easier to recapture such details when they are fresh in your mind."  
  
"Yessir," Harry responded. That was a pretty good idea, actually... and it would give them (well, Hermione) more to work with in their own investigations.  
  
"Now...If there is anything else you wish to confide in me?"  
  
"No, sir." For once, it was true.  
  
Dumbledore tilted his head up. "Then I suggest you get some rest. I dare say you'll need it for the holiday festivities."  
  
Sleep sounded good. Great, in fact. Harry nodded politely at the headmaster, then hurried from the room and down the stairs, past the gargoyle and into the bare corridor leading to the office. The windows at the far end, the ones that overlooked the courtyard, glowed softly with moonlight, and it had started to snow again.  
  
Harry slowed. White Christmas, he thought. Then he did a double take.  
  
It had been a clear, moonless night all of two minutes ago in Dumbledore's office. Where was this coming from? He ran to the windows and peered out.  
  
Yukina danced in the courtyard. Her thick hair was caught in a high ponytail; a strip of twisted white and light blue cloth was tied around her forehead. Her kimono was white, and unusually short: knee-length, slit up the sides. It was tied with a blue belt, far thinner than her usual sash. Bare feet flicked through snowdrifts in the courtyard. She held a fan in each hand, blue tipped with white, and snapped them open and closed in precise movements as she spun.  
  
She was glowing. No, that wasn't right... the air around her was glowing, silvery like Harry's first Patronus, and the light filled the courtyard. Harry glanced up, to see the stars were firmly in place and unhidden by clouds; the snow was being generated from the air itself.  
  
Looking back down, Harry realized that, despite the strict control of Yukina's dance, and the harsh silence, she was beaming with joy. (She was oddly pale, too... oh, makeup.)  
  
A shadow fell over Harry, and he glanced back up. Botan, on her oar, darted in through the window. But it's closed--! Harry thought in the instants as she slid from the oar, landing on her feet and catching him by the wrist as it vanished.  
  
"Run. Now," she ordered, yanking him in her wake. They sped down the hall, away from the courtyard and Yukina.  
  
"Wha---?"  
  
Botan nearly ran them facefirst into a door leading to a side hallway -- one that led back to the moving staircases, but without a view of the courtyard. She shoved at the latch, and jerked Harry through, catching the door to ease it shut silently.  
  
"You," she said, breathing harshly, "have the devil's luck. I swear you do--!"  
  
"What?" Harry asked, rubbing his wrist. Botan had a painfully strong grip. Well, of course she does. Hufflepuff Chaser, remember?  
  
Botan turned, slumping against the closed door. "I don't think she saw you. Us. How long were you standing there?"  
  
"A minute. Maybe two." Or three. "Why?"  
  
"Because that is an intensely private ritual that boys aren't allowed to see, that's why," Botan answered sharply.  
  
Harry blinked. "Oh."  
  
"Yes. 'Oh'." Botan pointed towards the staircases. "Go back to bed, Potter, and don't come out til breakfast. She'll be someplace more private by then."  
  
You'd think she'd be someplace more private now, Harry grumbled mentally. But he simply nodded, and headed down the corridor. The wrath of girls was all the same -- from Hermione to Molly Weasley. Harry wasn't going to trigger Botan's.  
  
Portraits snorted to grumpy awareness as Harry passed, but Harry ignored the grumbles. The staircase atrium remained as dark as it had on his way down, but somehow climbing up was better than down. Up gave just the tiniest added glimmer of starlight, and you could see if something jumped down at you. And Gryffindor Tower -- home -- waited at the end.  
  
The staircase to the 6th floor shuddered under Harry. Five years of experience had him catching at the heavy stone bannister as the stairs shifted, pivoting away from the stairs to Harry's floor, and towards a rarely-used hallway.  
  
Once they ground to a jerky halt, Harry hurried the rest of the way up. There was a narrow, steep set of stairs up to the Fat Lady's corridor from here, and who knew when the main stairs would shift back again? He set off down the richly-carpeted hallway, footsteps muffled. He walked in perfect silence: there were no portraits lining this hallway -- just a single, small painting where the corridor turned sharply, angled to look down both -- and the tapestries never woke to light shining on them.  
  
Around the corner, and now he was nearly under Gryffindor Tower itself, only a single rooms' width between the corridor and the parallel outside wall. The staircase was at the far end of the hallway, seven doors down, behind a tapestry... but something else caught Harry's attention.  
  
There was warm, golden light seeping out from under the fifth door down. Harry knew that room: it was directly under the Gryffindor common room, and rumor was that the Patil twins were tutored there on Mondays. But the twins had gone home for the holidays.  
  
Curious, Harry tried the handle. Locked.  
  
"Alohamora," Harry whispered. The latch snapped upwards with a near-silent click. Harry eased the door open, and peered into the room.  
  
Candles crowded every surface within: thick, tall pillar candles, the kind that would burn from sunset to sunrise even on the longest night of the year. Tonight, come to think of it, Harry realized. But unlike the Hogwarts candles, which were a plain, all-purpose off-white, these candles were an assortment of black and red. Black for protection; red for... fire? And, um... energy and strong emotion. Depends on the spell, but you only need candles and stuff for longspells. Who would be casting a longspell in the middle of Hogwarts...? He couldn't see anybody.  
  
Harry took a silent step forward, and then another, trying to see past the couch in the middle of the room.  
  
A soft, monotone murmur fell silent, Harry not noticing it until it vanished.  
  
"Hari-san."  
  
Harry jerked with shock. Kurama's voice--? He stumbled another step forward, finally able to see over the couch. Kurama knelt in a circle of candles, nearly on the hearth of a fire slightly too large for the fireplace. He was facing away from Harry, pointedly not looking away from the bright flames. He raised his hand to the side, palm up.  
  
"Iaringu o kudasai."  
  
Say what?  
  
Kurama gestured more firmly, pointing off to the side, his head half-turning. "Hari Potaa-san," he repeated. Harry shook his head: that was definitely his name, no denying that. "Iaringu."  
  
Well. That other word sounded like 'earring'. He looked curiously to where Kurama was pointing, and saw a low table pushed up against the wall. There were no candles on it; instead, it held a pot containing a blue-white plant, and two neatly-folded piles of clothing. Something small gleamed on top of each pile.  
  
"Hari-san," Kurama said, this time with exasperation.  
  
Kurama wasn't buying the 'no one's here, really' act, which would've worked better if Harry had remembered to put his Cloak back on. So he gave in and stepped over to the table, discovering that the small, gleaming thing on the clothing was a gold stud earring -- one for each set of clothes. He took a wild guess that the one on the non-black pile was Kurama's, took it, turned, and nearly dropped the earring.  
  
Hiei lay curled in Kurama's lap, fast asleep. Kurama's left hand curled protectively over the smaller boy's bare chest -- both were wearing thin, undyed pajama trousers, and nothing else. His right hand was still held out to Harry, mutely demanding the earring.  
  
Something was wrong. What was it...? It wasn't that they were wearing so little; the room was hot, and dorm life wasn't exactly good for developing modesty between dormmates. Though it was extremely odd that Hiei's right arm was bare... and bandaged from bicep to knuckle, just like it had been the day after the Sorting, the only other time Harry had seen the arm. And it wasn't that Hiei was sleeping, because longspells had lots of crazy requirements sometimes.  
  
And suddenly, Harry realized the problem. The only signs of spellcasting were the candles. There was no casting circle -- the candles didn't count; they weren't placed over any symbols or patterns. There were no colored robes or symbolic items to guide the power, and Kurama had stopped chanting. Longspells weren't core magic; they were powerful surface magic, delicate and complex. They wouldn't work without all the ritual stuff.  
  
This wasn't a spell at all. It was -- it had to be -- something private. Private in a way that Harry had no idea was even possible between two boys... was it?  
  
Kurama's glare made him think that it was. Nervously, Harry picked his way through the sea of candles, and handed the earring to Kurama.  
  
The Slytherin set it in place with a tiny 'snick', and sighed, turning to face Harry. "Oh, Inari, Harry, you shouldn't be here," he said soberly.  
  
"I was, um, starting to figure that out," Harry answered. He jerked his thumb at the door. "I'll just, er, be going then?"  
  
"No," Kurama said firmly. "You won't. You have no idea what you've interrupted."  
  
Harry felt himself blush brightly. "Erm..."  
  
Kurama pointed at the couch. "Sit." His tone allowed no argument; Harry meekly sat. "Inari," Kurama muttered again, this time directed at himself. "What on earth am I supposed to tell you?"  
  
"That you haven't been snogging?" Harry blurted.  
  
"Sno--?!" Kurama sputtered, cutting himself off mid-word. He glanced around, then down at himself and Hiei. "I hadn't even thought of that. It does rather look like a romantic encounter, doesn't it." A puff of laughter. "Don't I wish it were that. It would be far safer."  
  
Harry tensed, though whether it was to the idea that Kurama might really want... (was that possible?!), or to the idea that whatever was going on was dangerous, he didn't know. "Then what...?"  
  
"Give me a minute to think. Just... a minute. I don't know what I can tell you," Kurama said, oddly calm as he let his hand fall to a stack of bookmark-sized papers next to him. They were covered with strange scribbles. "I thought I locked that door--" he said under his breath, tossing one onto the fire. The blaze roared up, flames licking at the mantel and out towards Kurama, but the redhead didn't flinch.  
  
Harry decided it wouldn't be a good idea to tell Kurama he'd unlocked it, as Kurama sighed, gently lifting Hiei from his lap. He settled the sleeping boy on the hearth and turned, fully facing Harry for the first time since Harry had entered the room.  
  
"I can't think of anything that's safe for you," Kurama said, "Except... Will you submit to magically binding oath of secrecy, regarding whatever I tell you about what is happening in this room tonight?"  
  
Harry blinked. "What happens if I don't?" he asked.  
  
"Don't what? Don't make the oath, or don't keep it?"  
  
Good question. "Both," Harry decided.  
  
Kurama's face went blank. "If you don't take the oath, you leave here with no answers. Hiei wakes with his trust in the both of us shattered." His tone promised that this was a dire threat. "If you break the oath... I don't know." He paused. "The power of a broken promise is extremely potent. I've never heard of anyone who dared to break a magically-enforced one."  
  
"I have."  
  
Surprise flashed through Kurama's eyes. "Really? What happened?"  
  
"He got away." Except... Wormtail had spent twelve years as a rat, the pet of a horde of rowdy Weasley children, afraid for his life if and when Voldemort returned, and now was snivelling and still afraid for his life, groveling at Voldemort's feet. It wasn't as bad as Azkaban, but... "Sort of," Harry added. And with that, his decision was made. "I'll do it."  
  
Kurama accepted this solemnly, bowing his head slightly. "Snap a branch off that plant -- one with a flower, you've been in here too long without one -- and bring it back here."  
  
Confused, Harry did so. When he'd settled back on the couch, Kurama took the branch from his hand, and plucked the flower, holding it up towards Harry. "Just a whiff, now," he cautioned. "Too much and you'll be running a dangerously high fever when you leave."  
  
After Harry had taken a cautious sniff -- which burned a warm flush through him, and he hadn't realized just how cold he'd been getting (why was he cold in a stifling-hot room with so many candles and a fire that size burning?) -- Kurama set the flower aside and lifted the branch. He squeezed a vibrant blue fluid onto his finger from the broken end. "Open your shirt."  
  
"What?" Harry hadn't heard that right, had he?  
  
"Unless you want this on your face?" Kurama gestured with the blue stuff. "It won't wash off for several days."  
  
Harry hastily undid the top three buttons of his pajama top, hoping that was enough. It seemed to be, for Kurama leaned upwards and started to draw in tiny, sticky movements somewhat below Harry's collarbone. He spoke as he did so, in no language Harry recognized -- it was nothing like Japanese, or the bits of warding-cantrip Hermione had pestered Hiei to translate. Just how many languages did Genkai make her students learn?  
  
"Repeat after me," Kurama said in English. "I solemnly swear my lips shall be sealed."  
  
"I solemnly swear my lips shall be sealed."  
  
"My mind and my heart, my hands and my magic."  
  
"My mind and my heart, my hands and my magic."  
  
"By the powers of others, the dead nor the gods,"  
  
"By the powers of others, the dead nor the gods," What had Harry gotten himself into?  
  
"I cannot reveal this:"  
  
"I cannot reveal this:"  
  
"The events within the room below Gryffindor Tower, on the night of the winter solstice,"  
  
"The events within the room below Gryffindor Tower, on the night of the winter solstice,"  
  
"Nor what Minamino Shuiichi Kurama tells Harry Potter of them,"  
  
"Nor what Minamino Shuiichi Kurama tells Harry Potter of them,"  
  
"Nor shall I use the knowledge for harm."  
  
"Nor shall I use the knowledge for harm."  
  
Kurama circled the little drawing with the wet, sticky fluid, and sat back. "All done."  
  
"This had better be worth it," Harry muttered, buttoning his shirt back up as Kurama turned back to the fire and pulled Hiei onto his lap once more.  
  
"It is," Kurama replied. "Hiei is in a coma."  
  
That simple statement shocked a laugh of disbelief out of Harry. "You're joking," he said. It couldn't possibly be true. "He'd be in the Infirmary."  
  
Kurama turned a cold look on Harry that made his insides shrivel. "I am not joking," Kurama said flatly. "I didn't take him."  
  
It couldn't be... it... Kurama was Hiei's friend! "Why not?" Harry asked, voice tight.  
  
"There's nothing Madam Pomfrey can do." Kurama gestured at the room. "I can. Am."  
  
"But--" That didn't make sense. "What happened?" People didn't just fall into comas for no reason. Even Muggles didn't... and wizards could take a lot more abuse than Muggles. Hiei looked fine. What could've happened to him in Hogwarts?!  
  
Kurama sighed, and was silent for a moment. Then... "Some core magics have side effects. Weak points, brought about simply by the nature of whatever you have power with. Weapons and fighting specialists waste away without fights -- a contest or competition can save their life."  
  
"Is that what's wrong with Hiei? He hasn't fought recently?" That didn't sit well with Harry.  
  
"No," Kurama replied. "Hiei's swordsmanship is purely Muggle. His core magic is... complicated."  
  
Entirely Muggle? "What is his core magic, then?"  
  
Kurama's voice turned faintly amused. "Can't you guess?"  
  
Guess? Guess... it was somehow obvious, then. Harry frowned, remembering...  
  
"Look at the snow. They're running -- I can almost see it, in blurs."  
  
"Nobody else would go flying in a blizzard!"  
  
Abruptly, Trelawney snapped her hand back, lifted the pitcher, and poured more water into Hiei's bowl. It hissed as it touched the metal, going up in steam and leaving the bowl bone-dry.  
  
"We can hear you two, you know. Do you really want Hiei working with Kuwabara in a room full of volatile materials?"  
  
"Not fireproof, exactly," Yukina murmured. "Just... immune. Oniisan and I."  
  
Harry glanced around. Roaring blaze in the fireplace. Candles: black for protection, red for...  
  
"Fire," he answered.  
  
"In a sense," Kurama said. "To be more precise, his core magic is the antithesis of ice. Heat, speed... a true fire mage wouldn't be affected, but tonight is the height of an ice mage's power-- and thus, is the lowest point of Hiei's." A rueful smile. "Though I wasn't expecting it to be quite this bad."  
  
"If it's worse than it's supposed to be," Harry said -- rather reasonably, he thought --, "why don't you take him to the Infirmary?"  
  
"And have to magically bind every casual passerby to secrecy?" Kurama asked dryly. "The entire staff? Every student with a runny nose, even as few as there are staying? The ghosts? The House Elves? The portraits? I have limits, Harry."  
  
Point, but... "Why do you have to? Cast secrecy oaths and stuff."  
  
"Do you remember, back on the train, when I said we knew to be careful in regards to Voldemort?"  
  
Harry did recall him saying that. "Yes..." he answered uncertainly.  
  
"This is 'careful'."  
  
This is borderline paranoia, Harry thought, but he didn't say it aloud. They lapsed into silence, and, slowly, Harry realized that he felt as muzzy as he did after going through one of Hermione's lectures. Information overload... I can't figure out what else I'd want to ask.  
  
"If that's all...?" Kurama prompted.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. "I guess. Yeah."  
  
"Then I really have to return to the spell again, before Hiei gets too cold," Kurama said apologetically.  
  
It was an obvious dismissal, but not like Dumbledore's. Harry left this encounter with information, for a change... too much, perhaps, but that was better than none at all. He pushed himself up from the couch.  
  
"Good night, then," he said.  
  
"Sleep well, Harry," Kurama answered.  
  
Harry picked his way through the candles and left, managing to reach Gryffindor Tower without any other incidents. Upon returning to his dorm, he stuffed his cloak into his trunk and fell gratefully into bed.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The door clicked shut behind Harry, the lock falling back into place with a gentle clunk, and Kurama turned back to stare into the fireplace. He lifted his right hand before his face, first two fingers pointed upwards to begin chanting the Dark Phoenix Sutra again.  
  
His hand was trembling.  
  
Kurama frowned.  
  
 _I wanted to kill him. Just for an instant-- I wanted to break that damned vow Koenma forced out of me. Hurt one of the students. I like him, but... he intruded--_  
  
Except that intrusion didn't warrant that sort of reaction, not for watching over a friend, collecting on the debt of guarding him... how many times had someone from Team Urameshi barged in during the hours after Hiei had unleashed Kokuryuuha at the Dark Tournament? Allies shouldn't trigger the urge to kill while keeping watch...  
  
Except in one case.  
  
 _Oh. Hell. Kurama, you're an idiot._  
  
 _Now what do I do?_  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hiei swum to full consciousness slowly, a way of waking that he was decidedly not familiar with. Fortunately, centuries of habit let him catalogue his surroundings while still seeming to be asleep, despite the odd, drug-like grogginess weighing down and slowing his instincts.  
  
Injuries: none. Warding bandages: in place. Weapons: none, but he hadn't slept with his sword properly at his side more than a dozen times in the past couple of months anyway. Warmth under him, oddly firm for a Hogwarts cushion. Presences: just one, the scent and breathing pattern as familiar as his own.  
  
Kurama.  
  
With that, Hiei's eyes popped open. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, finding added annoyance in the fact that his question came out fogged with sleep.  
  
"Good morning, Hiei," Kurama replied, his own voice rasping and weak. "What do you remember?"  
  
Not a bloody thing after I went upstairs after lunch, Hiei thought. He answered, "Don't avoid the question."  
  
"Well..." Kurama looked up at the ceiling pensively, and Hiei suddenly realized that he was staring straight up at Kurama's bared throat and jaw. Which he could only be doing if he was lying on Kurama's lap.  
  
That explained the strangeness of the "cushion".  
  
Kurama swung his head down to smile at Hiei, blocking his throat from view. "You paid me back for Halloween."  
  
Huh? "Paid you back...? How?" Please say you had your wicked way with me or something properly youko like that, so I can hate you. Don't--  
  
"In kind. Eye for an eye, guard for a guard."  
  
\--say that. Fuck. Hiei pushed himself up off Kurama's lap, absently noting that Kurama's hands trailed over his (bared) shoulders as he did so. Where's my shirt? All my clothes, actually -- these aren't my pants. "How did you know?" he asked simply.  
  
Kurama shrugged. "You were affected by the equinox. A true fire demon wouldn't be... but you're not. So I guessed that the solstice would be even worse. And what do you know, I was right."  
  
Goddamn too-observant too-crafty too-meddling secret-stealing fox... "Don't sound so smug," Hiei groused. "Where are my clothes?" Kurama pointed to a little table off to the side, and Hiei stumbled over to it and began to change.  
  
"You know," Kurama said conversationally, slumping against the couch and gently starting to straighten his legs -- he must've been sitting in the same position all night, Hiei realized -- "I'm glad I finished the Shin Go."  
  
Hiei dropped his shirt, feeling the blood drain from his face. He hadn't heard that right. He couldn't have-- oh, hell. Halloween and last night almost precisely fit the terms of the ritual. The only missing component was the key one, the formal request for protection at the beginning. If Kurama was interpreting it as Shin Go... he'd obviously been living among humans and their sentimental crap for too long.  
  
"You could've really hurt Harry and Ron last night," Kurama continued, faking obliviousness. "Humans can't handle hypothermia as well as demons can. Though I suppose I could've dosed them with frostgut pollen to raise their temperatures--"  
  
"You... you think... are you mad?" Hiei interrupted.  
  
Kurama pretended to think about that for a second. "Nope. I'm quite sure humans can't tolerate hypothermia--"  
  
"Not that!" Hiei snapped. "This was not Shin Go." How the hell did Kurama think it could be? "I did what was necessary, you took payment. That's it."  
  
"What if it wasn't?"  
  
Hiei froze, and Kurama took advantage of that to pull himself onto the couch, letting his head fall to rest against the back. Hiei was uncomfortably aware that this bared Kurama's throat to attack for a second time since Hiei had woke. "I could ask, for next year."  
  
He couldn't. He couldn't possibly. It was unthinkable.  
  
"In fact," Kurama murmured, surprise in his voice, "I think I actually can. Will, even."  
  
"You're insane," Hiei deduced flatly, regaining his equilibrium. That was the only explanation. "Whatever you did last night cooked what few brains you have."  
  
"Sorry to burst your bubble, Hiei, but the simple fact that we are both standing here alive, intact, unmolested," he grinned, "and that we spent both nights pain-free, is proof enough for me. So... I, the Youko Kurama, freely admit to weakness upon the night of Halloween. I request your presence--"  
  
Hiei jerked, jaw dropping in shock. He was never supposed to hear this. He wouldn't have even known there were formal words if it weren't for Shigure's library. And to be addressed to him...?  
  
"-- unbound and armed, free of will and from spell --"  
  
It wasn't happening. He would pretend it had never happened.  
  
"-- without witness nor ward --"  
  
 _Shut up. Come to your senses already, fox -- don't do this to me!_  
  
"-- to do as you will. Do you, Hiei, Jagan's master, accept?"  
  
"Quit being ridiculous," Hiei growled, stomping into his boots and striding across to the door. "You have until Halloween to retract your proposal," he ordered, flinging the door open.  
  
"You have until Halloween to accept it!" Kurama called cheerfully after him.  
  
Hiei slammed the door in response.  
  



	30. Christmas

  
  
  
Kurama and Hiei missed breakfast, as did Yukina, but they appeared for lunch: Hiei scowling pensively, Yukina radiating exhausted bliss, and Kurama radiating simple exhaustion. They took places at the table, Hiei -- as usual -- sitting at the far end of the clustered students, with Kurama between him and everybody else.  
  
Harry couldn't help but glance at them throughout the meal. Hiei looked okay -- not like he'd spent a full night comatose -- but was he? And more importantly, did he know?  
  
(That was a rather generalized question, Harry was well aware, but it covered all the important details. Did Hiei know he'd spent the night in Kurama's lap? Did he know Harry had seen them, that Kurama had told his secrets under that oathspell? Did he know Kurama wanted (did he want?) to, er, be with him? Did he know how ill he'd been, and that he hadn't been brought to the nurse? Did he... no, that was stupid, of course he would know about his twin's own ritual. Right?)  
  
Hiei elbowed Kurama, making the redhead jerk more fully awake and nearly drop his chopsticks. Harry glanced away quickly, though Hiei hadn't looked up as he'd done so. He was almost pointedly ignoring the entire table.  
  
Did he know?  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The weekend passed, and the sun set on a clear, cold Christmas Eve. The teachers arranged a skating party in the little cove between the two halves of the school, near the cave where the first-year boats docked. A few freezing charms insured the ice here was thick enough to hold even Hagrid -- this had been proven when he walked on it to rope off the cove -- and they'd smoothed out the ice for easy skating. A moonlight charm and several torches provided enough light to skate by, and a few tables on the beach provided food (under warming charms) and a place to sit if you were tired.  
  
Hiei wasn't tired, but he had managed to resist attempts to cajole him onto the ice. So he sat at the tables with a mug of hot chocolate, glaring daggers at Kuwabara whenever the unfortunate human glanced his way. It was only proper, as Yukina's 'brother': Hiei had been in Ningenkai long enough to discover that Christmas Eve was an extremely popular date night.  
  
This was a good way to keep an eye on overly hormonal teenagers, Hiei mused, as he watched the others circle the ice. It fit those weird ningen concepts of 'romance' (he supposed), yet wasn't exclusive to couples -- Harry and Hermione fell over, dragging Ron with them, the three laughing as they tried to untangle themselves -- and it was well-lit. It was easy to see everybody, even without demon eyesight.  
  
Kuwabara, surprisingly, was an excellent skater. He and Yukina crossed the ice expertly, laughing as they helped fallen students up. Kurama made a face as they steadied him on his feet, not seeing them exchange a mischievious glance. They grabbed his arms and pushed off, dragging him between them.  
  
"What?! Hey--!" Kurama sputtered, eyes wide.  
  
"Push off, Kurama," Yukina directed sweetly. "Nice and smooth. Right... left..."  
  
Kuwabara chimed in, exaggerating his skating a bit in a 'teaching' manner. "Right... left..."  
  
"Guys--!" They let go, and Kurama managed a full meter before he landed facefirst in a snowbank. He levered himself up, sputtering, snow dripping from his hair. "That wasn't funny!"  
  
"Yes, it was!" Yuusuke laughed, falling off his own skates.  
  
Kurama lobbed a handful of snow at him and Keiko, and Hiei looked away. Stupid fox. Why did he insist on being so... human?  
  
Ron wobbled up to the tables, ladling a cup of cocoa from the cauldron next to Hiei. "Why aren't you out there?" he asked, plopping down on the bench. Hiei flicked a disdainful glance at him, but the boy ignored it. "Can't skate, huh?"  
  
"I can skate." It was true. Unlike Kurama, who preferred to avoid colder parts of the Three Worlds as much as possible, and thus had never learned to ice skate, Hiei had spent a number of decades in the arctic regions of Makai.  
  
"So come on out," Ron said, taking a drink of his chocolate. He swallowed and added, "You can't be having fun sitting over here."  
  
Hiei could give Ron an earful about his opinion of 'fun', if he didn't have to play human. He settled for a scathing glare... which also didn't work. These people were getting too used to him.  
  
Ron gestured with his mug. "Are you really that mad at him?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Kurama," Ron clarified, though that hadn't quite been Hiei's question. "You've been acting like the twins when they have a row. All 'I'm going to sit next to you but pretend you don't exist'." He took another gulp of cocoa. "George is really good at that. Fred tends more towards these kinda creepy sad looks, especially when it's his fault. So what'd he do?"  
  
Hiei forced down a surge of uneasiness. He... they'd been obvious enough that even Ron had noticed? He thought he'd been acting normally. "It doesn't translate," he said curtly.  
  
"Yeah," Ron drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Sure."  
  
"It doesn't," Hiei repeated. Because it really didn't translate into human terms. Humans had all that 'love' crap, that covered family and lovers and friends and who knew what else. Demons had trust and survival, if they were lucky. Forbidden children didn't even get that.  
  
Except... Hiei had. Formally, even. Kurama was a lunatic.  
  
"He did something stupid," Hiei grumbled.  
  
Ron nodded. "Yeah, we all heard about the bedcurtains. Hermione was throwing fits."  
  
"Not that." Though it served Kurama right for breaking Hiei's wards.  
  
"He did something dumber?" Ron sounded stunned. Hiei glanced over, and saw him staring out at the ice, wide-eyed. "Doesn't seem the type."  
  
"You'd be surprised," slipped out. Hiei blinked, then narrowed his eyes at his cocoa mug. Had someone spiked the drink?  
  
Ron finished off his drink, and set the mug on the table with a sharp clack. "Well. When your best friend does something stupid, that's the time you gotta stick with him." He quirked a rueful smile. "Learned that the hard way."  
  
He wobbled back to the ice, Hiei staring blankly after him. Best friend... when... that's the time to stick with him...? You dumped allies and punished underlings when they did stupid things. But stick with them? That was... so human.  
  
But Kurama's not an underling. Or an ally. He's...  
  
He's...  
  
But there, Hiei's mind drew a blank.  
  
"Fuck it," he muttered, setting his mug aside and lacing on his skates. Sitting here thinking about it wasn't going to make the fox any more comprehensible. He shoved to his feet and stalked to the ice's edge, gliding out onto the cove with barely a pause. Yukina smiled at him, and redirected Kuwabara away, as Hiei skated to the netting at the far end of the cove.  
  
Kurama sat on the ice there, untangling his skate from the ropes. Hiei bent down and flicked the last loop off, earning a surprised smile from Kurama. He caught the fox's wrist. "You've got balance, use it," he said gruffly, half-pulling Kurama to his feet. Kurama wobbled, and Hiei caught his other arm. "Not so far back. Better. Don't lift your foot, and push..."  
  
Slowly, they began to circle the ice, Hiei skating backwards and pulling Kurama along as he taught the fox how to skate.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
At the ungodly hour of nowhere-near-dawn (roughly 6 am), Harry woke to someone shaking him roughly.  
  
"Wake up!" Ron yelled happily. "It's Christmas!"  
  
"Nngh..." Harry said, reaching for and shoving his glasses on his face. He sat up as Ron continued around the room, grabbing the posts of Yuusuke and Kuwabara's beds and shaking them. Apparently, he wasn't going to risk getting punched.  
  
"Happy Christmas! Wake up!"  
  
Harry grinned. "Geez, Ron, are you five or fifteen?" he asked dryly, not quite awake enough yet to be teasing.  
  
"Five," Ron shot back. He kicked Hiei's bed, avoiding the curtain wards. Hiei poked his head out, scowling. Ron grinned. "Happy Christmas!"  
  
"What?" Hiei growled.  
  
"Ha-ppy-Christ-mas," Ron repeated, tapping the smallish pile of brightly-wrapped packages stacked on Hiei's trunk. The smaller boy's eyes dropped to them.  
  
"What...?" Hiei's tone had switched from grumpy to bewildered.  
  
Harry was reminded of his first Hogwarts Christmas. Did the Japanese exchange Christmas gifts? Hiei didn't look like he had any idea what one was. "Christmas presents, Hiei," he explained. "Presents for you."  
  
Stunned black eyes shifted from the small pile to Harry's face.  
  
Yuusuke and Kuwabara yelled, distracting Harry.  
  
"All right! Presents!"  
  
"Ahhh! I got one from Yukina-chan!"  
  
Harry pulled the top gift from his pile. Shaped like a book, heavy like a book, tag from Hermione... what a surprise. He tore the paper away, and grinned. Bangles and Incense: Mystic Revelations to Fleece the Gullible. Just like Hermione to give him something to help with his schoolwork. He and Ron were running out of ideas for Divination.  
  
He glanced up, and nodded at Hiei's pile. "What did you get?" he asked, though Hiei had only gotten as far as gingerly holding his first gift, unopened, staring at it as if it might bite him.  
  
A half-hearted glance at Harry, too filled with confusion to really be a glare, and Hiei slowly slit the tape with a fingernail, unfolding the paper to reveal a box. He lifted the lid, set it aside, and reached in to pull out a stone and cloth.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked.  
  
"New sword care kit," Hiei replied. "High-quality."  
  
"Cool."  
  
Now that Hiei had been prompted to start opening his gifts, Harry returned to his own. The next package was the usual Weasley sweater -- this year, Molly had included a knit cap like Ron's, -- and the one after that was a practice Snitch and Firebolt-brand broom service refill kit (more polish and polishing cloths, a sharpener for the twig clippers, and a special-edition calibrator to check that the twig lacings were at the proper tension) from Sirius and Remus. Hagrid had sent a batch of fudge ("Recipee from Olympe, a bit lite fer me, but she sez her students love it. Happee Chrismas!"), Ron had given the usual assortment of little things from Honeydukes and Zonko's, the Dursleys had sent a broken paperclip... and then there was one extra gift this year. Harry picked it up, slightly confused. Who else would... maybe Dumbledore?  
  
The tag read: From: Tantei, for your hospitality.  
  
"Who's Tan-tay?" Harry asked.  
  
"That's us," Yuusuke said around a mouthful of candy. "It's shorthand for Genkai's students."  
  
"If you don't translate the kanji to English," Hiei added, slicing a ribbon rather than untying the intricate bow on a small box.  
  
"Oh." From all of them? "Thank you."  
  
Yuusuke waved it off. "Open it up first."  
  
Harry did so, lifted the lid of the box, and unfolded the tissue paper to reveal a sheathed knife. He blinked. A knife?  
  
Carefully, he took it from the box, unsnapping a loop holding the knife firmly inside the sheath for safety, and slid the blade free to examine it. As far as he could tell, it was a good knife -- a wire-bound hilt, sized to fit his hand comfortably unless he got a growth spurt; little ornamentation, even less than Gryffindor's sword with its rubies; and sharpened only along one side and the long point, more like the knives they used in Potions than Godric's sword. This seemed to be a multipurpose blade.  
  
The sheath itself matched, with equally little ornamentation -- just his initials, branded into the dark leather -- and had odd lacings on the back.  
  
"The girls gave you the sheath," Yuusuke said. "Keiko refused to buy the blade -- said giving knives is bad luck."  
  
"Yukina says it's great luck," Kuwabara protested.  
  
"So we have no idea," Yuusuke added, still talking to Harry. "The sheath's adjustable, you can fit it on your arm, belt, or leg."  
  
Hiei refolded the deep blue robe he'd pulled from one of his gift boxes. "The blade is perfectly balanced, unless you want to throw it. We can start you learning to fight with it after break."  
  
"Sorry it's not cool or fun," Yuusuke finished. "But Genkai controls most of the money."  
  
"I think it's great," Harry said honestly. He was surprised, but it was really a neat little knife. Setting the blade aside, he rolled up the leg of his pajamas and started working to figure out how to lace the sheath to his calf.  
  
Ron pulled his own last gift into his lap. "From Tantei," he read the tag aloud. He tore the paper from the flat, square package away, pulling the bright wrapping aside and leaving it in the pile of ribbons and paper.  
  
Harry looked up from the mess he was making of the lacings. "What is it?" he asked. All he could see was a blank slab of dark, varnished wood. Ron flipped the slab to reveal the familiar squares of a chessboard, in silvery ash and black ebony. As he did so, his hands slipped to the corners.  
  
The board abruptly shrank in Ron's hands, becoming the size of a Galleon. A loop of cord sprang out from one corner, turning the board into a pendant.  
  
"It's expandable..." Ron breathed, "and I don't have to change my pieces!" He glanced at Yuusuke. "How big can I make it?"  
  
"I dunno. Few dozen meters."  
  
"What's a meter?"  
  
"Muggle measurement, about three feet long," Harry answered, doing a (very) rough calculation in his head. Round to four dozen, round to fifty, multiply by three... "Hundred fifty feet or so. I'd try it outside if I were you."  
  
Ron's eyes lit up. "Wicked..."  
  
Before Ron could suggest they try it right away, Hiei announced that the clock read "Time for Breakfast." In the resulting flurry of dressing, hair- and teeth-brushing, and finding shoes (and tripping over Yuki, who yowled and swiped Kuwabara smartly across the ankle), all thoughts of presents were momentarily thrust aside in favor of more important matters -- the Christmas feasts.  
  



	31. New Year's

  
The week ticked by too quickly, in a blur of snowball fights, card games, and chess on Ron's new board -- both indoors and out, using Ron's pieces at sizes up to a foot tall. The pieces visibly changed with every game, edges softening and running like melted wax. Where before they had been rough-hewn and blocky, and the only human pieces had been the hook-nosed, frowning king and queen, now they were becoming fluidly humanoid shapes, except for the pawns.  
  
The evergreen garlands festooning the Great Hall and several main areas of the castle, including the library and common rooms, were changing, as well. Bamboo stalks, straw, and fern leaves appeared, woven in them: sometimes between meals, sometimes -- as in the case of the Gryffindor common room -- overnight.  
  
When Hermione asked, Yuusuke said they were New Year's decorations.  
  
On Friday, a new centerpiece appeared on the students' and teachers' tables: two flattened, white rounds of cake, stacked one atop the other, displayed on a wooden block, and topped with a tangerine. Keiko blocked an overcurious second-year student's reaching hand, and explained this was a kagamimochi, another New Year's decoration, and wasn't to be eaten until after the New Year.  
  
On Saturday, Harry caught Yuusuke making his bed, and Kuwabara reorganizing his trunk. Their charms translated their explanation to "spring cleaning", but Harry was fairly sure this was less than accurate.  
  
On Sunday, dinner was strange dishes of pasta in a soupy broth, topped with a raw egg and a slice of something rectangular and white, and bowls of soup with a whitish, sticky pastry in the bottom.  
  
The Tantei dug in eagerly, but the Hogwarts students stared at their food in mixed curiosity and trepidation. Hermione tried hers first.  
  
"It's sort of fishy," she said of the pasta. Ron made a face -- he didn't like fish.  
  
Harry stirred the soup with his strangely ladle-like spoon. Slices of mushroom, carrots, something leaf-green, and something circular and white floated in the clear broth. He screwed up his Gryffindor courage and took a sip.  
  
Fishy, just like Hermione had said. But not too bad. He tried some more, and with the appetite of a teenage boy backing him up, soon was barely managing to keep from slurping.  
  
Across the table, Ron pulled one of the larger serving bowls towards him. It was filled with round, dark beans. He popped one into his mouth and chewed. "S'ok," he mumbled to himself, and poured a quarter of the bowl onto his plate. He drizzled soy sauce over his rice, mixed it all together, and used the funny ladle-spoon to scoop the resulting mixture into his mouth.  
  
The Tantei stared at him in horror.  
  
"What?" he mumbled, barely intelligible around the spoon.  
  
"You're impossible, Ron," Hermione sighed.  
  
"I was incorrigible yesterday," Ron muttered. "Make up your mind."  
  
Keiko, Kuwabara, and Yuusuke shuddered, and went back to their meal in silence. The others managed not to shudder, but their eyes skittered past Ron rather than falling on him through the rest of the meal.  
  
Harry reached for seconds on the soup as Dumbledore stood. McGonagall tapped her spoon against her water glass, ringing for quiet.  
  
"Before we leave this unusual, yet excellent repast," Dumbledore began, "I have an announcement. As there are so few students staying this year... tonight, ALL students will be allowed to visit Hogsmeade, to ring in the New Year!"  
  
Cheers erupted in the Great Hall, led by Yuusuke, Kuwabara, and Ron.  
  
Dumbledore waited a beat for the noise to quiet. "Your professors will be going along, of course--" surprisingly, no one groaned at this, "-- and I must ask that no one wanders off alone while in town." Another lack of complaint, and Dumbledore smiled. "We will meet in the courtyard at quarter after eight. Dress for the occasion -- it IS a holiday, after all." He sat, and the Hall broke out into excited murmuring.  
  
Botan suddenly stood, yelping as she stared at her watch. "We only have two hours to get ready!"  
  
Keiko and Yukina scrambled off their benches, as did most of the other girls.  
  
"I'll see you all at eight, then," Hermione said, as she got up more calmly from her own bench. She strode from the Great Hall, leaving it empty of girls.  
  
The boys glanced at each other.  
  
"Guess it's universal, how long it takes for girls to get ready," Ron said cheerfully into the silence.  
  
"Actually..." Kurama murmured, "we should leave, too, if we want to bathe properly before we dress," he said to Hiei, standing.  
  
Hiei flicked a cool glance at Kurama. "Why?" he asked -- if Harry hadn't lived with him for several months, he wouldn't have recognized the tone for nonhostile curiosity. "It'll take two seconds to dress."  
  
"You're wearing kimono," Kurama replied. (Kimono? Harry thought. Like Yukina's? Those bright dresses and sashes in huge bows? The idea was ridiculous; Harry couldn't even try to picture it.)  
  
"I didn't bring any," Hiei said, a sliver of irritation creeping into his voice.  
  
It didn't sway Kurama. "I did."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Hiei allowed Kurama to pull him from the bench. The group took that as their cue to leave, and stood as well. Harry grabbed a cupcake -- normal food! -- as they trickled from the room in ones and twos in Kurama and Hiei's wake.  
  
Upon reaching the moving staircases, the two split ways -- Hiei heading upstairs, Kurama down. "-- up right after my bath," Harry heard Kurama saying as he and Ron reached them. "Don't lock me out, please."  
  
"Hn."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Nearly an hour and a half later, Harry and Ron wandered back up to the dorm, and discovered that, no, Hiei had not locked Kurama out.  
  
The two of them were in the small bit of open space in the room, near Hiei's bed, where squares of neatly-folded clothing sat. Hiei himself stood, wearing a light brown kimono that came to his knees. A painted dragon coiled across the back; the thick collar was dark blue. Kurama stood before him, already fully dressed in a warm brown kimono and some odd sort of striped skirt -- at least, that's what the pleated thing looked like to Harry. His hair was still slightly damp from the bath.  
  
"What's he doing here?" Ron blurted instinctively.  
  
Kurama looked up, unoffended. "Helping Hiei dress," he answered. And, indeed, as Harry watched, Kurama reached for the bed. He took a wide waistband from it, looping it around Hiei's waist and tying it in place.  
  
"You can't do it yourself?" Harry asked. It was just a robe, right? Simple matter of pulling it on and tying it closed.  
  
"Well, you can," Kurama said, smoothing Hiei's collar, "but it's easier not to. My mother usually helps me." He took a strip of brown cloth from the bed and laid it on Hiei's collar, then stood to grab a dark blue robe. Harry realized both Tantei were wearing a strange, split-toed type of white sock.  
  
"There's no room for sloppiness in wearing kimono," Hiei said flatly, grumpily, as Kurama gently shook out the plain blue robe and held it open for Hiei to push his arms into. This robe reached his ankles.  
  
Kurama stepped back around to Hiei's front, and pulled at the front panels of the outer robe, carefully aligning them. "Hold," he said, and Hiei's hands covered Kurama's, replacing them and holding the kimono in place under the wide waistband. Kurama checked the strip of brown at the collar, lining it up as if it should be attached to the inside of the outer kimono's collar. He then threaded another, thinner waistband between Hiei's arms, and tied it closed around his waist.  
  
Harry turned away, opening his trunk and digging his dress robes out, as Ron buttoned the collar of his own (cinnamon brown, NO lace or mold) robes closed and headed for the bathrooms with his hairbrush. Western robes only needed to be pulled over one's head, and in Harry's case, the cuffs buttoned. Much smarter and easier than all this 'inner robe, outer robe, waistbands and collars and precise lining-up' weirdness, in Harry's opinion. And that didn't even include the stripey skirt-thing Kurama was wearing.  
  
He turned, intending to get his brush, and saw Kurama kneeling, shaking out a blue-striped skirt-thing for Hiei to step into.  
  
Bleh.  
  
The door burst open, thudding against the wall, and Yuusuke rushed in, still in jeans and a sweater. Hiei didn't bother to glance at him, but Kurama froze.  
  
"Yuusuke! You aren't even-- we only have fifteen minutes before we have to go!"  
  
"No problem," Yuusuke said. "Genkai showed us this charm--"  
  
"You're terrible in Charms."  
  
Yuusuke grinned. "Just watch," he said smugly, lifting his wand. Kurama edged closer to Hiei, away from him. " _Kosodesho_!"  
  
Yuusuke's trunk banged open, black and white robes flying out. They shook themselves free of their folding and spun about Yuusuke, hiding him from view. A yelp, and his jeans and sweater flung themselves from the whirling mass of cloth, which shrank and tightened until -- with an outward blast of air that made Harry's eyes water -- Yuusuke was revealed again, his hair slightly mussed, and wobbling.  
  
"Whoa," he muttered, putting a hand to his head dizzily.  
  
Kurama burst into an uncontrollable fit of snickering, burying his face against Hiei's chest.  
  
"What?" Yuusuke asked. Kurama just pointed at him helplessly, shaking with laughter. Hiei glanced at Yuusuke, and snorted with amusement before he could suppress his reaction. "Whaaat?"  
  
"Your kimono..." Kurama managed.  
  
Yuusuke looked down at himself, and Harry looked too. Nothing wrong with Yuusuke's robes. They looked just like Kurama's, except for the color. What was so funny?  
  
"Your kimono," Hiei said, smirking, "says you're dead, Yuusuke."  
  
"Ehhhh?!" Yuusuke looked down at himself again, tracing the collar down to his belt. "It does. DAMMIT!"  
  
"I told you you were terrible in Charms," Kurama said, voice muffled, but his laughter under control. "You should've had Genkai or Kuwabara cast it."  
  
"My kimono was up here," Yuusuke grumbled, glancing between himself and the clock. "I hate wearing these things."  
  
Kurama leaned back, working on tying Hiei's skirt-thing, carefully and pointedly not looking at Yuusuke again. "Well, you could either ask for help--" Yuusuke coughed, and it sounded suspiciously like 'shyeah right', "-- recast the charm and hope you don't make it worse, or just ignore the fact that you're dressed like a corpse."  
  
Harry shuddered. That was a morbid and disgusting idea.  
  
"Picky, picky," Yuusuke muttered. "How badly would I spook the girls if I did that last one?"  
  
"Botan would probably be laughing too hard to walk," Kurama answered smoothly, standing. "All done."  
  
"Hn," Hiei said, and Harry recognized it as a sort of thanks. Kurama pushed two very short robes -- coats? -- aside, and sat on Hiei's bed. Hiei clambered up behind him with a hairbrush.  
  
"Why's Yuusuke kimono say he's dead?" Harry asked.  
  
The three of them blinked at him, as if they'd almost forgotten he was there. Yuusuke turned, so Harry could see him and Kurama clearly.  
  
Kurama traced a finger along a line of blue at his collar -- the strip of cloth, in the same place as Hiei's brown one -- then pointed at Yuusuke. "It's here. Yuusuke has the wrong flap of the kimono on the outside."  
  
Harry looked more carefully. The thin line of color -- white on Yuusuke, blue on Kurama -- crossed from shoulder to belt in opposite directions on them. "That's it?"  
  
"It's extremely important!"  
  
Riiiiiiiiight.  
  
Ron appeared at the door, tossing his brush vaguely in the direction of his bed (it missed) as the clock chimed. "'Mione's gonna lecture us again if we're late," he said hurriedly.  
  
The Tantei slipped their feet into sandals, Harry dropped his brush on his bed, they all grabbed their coats and cloaks, and they followed Ron downstairs.  
  
Hermione waited in the common room, along with the little 3rd-year girl who was the only other Gryffindor remaining at Hogwarts. "It's about time!" she said, whirling on them. "And to think girls are supposed to take forever..."  
  
"You-look-very-nice-tonight-Hermione," Ron said quickly, as if he'd practiced the sentence since the Yule Ball last year.  
  
Hermione beamed. Her hair was piled sleekly on top of her head, caught with a pin that was of no Western make -- her Christmas gift from 'Tantei', charmed so that she didn't have to so much as brush her hair before putting it in. Harry was sure she was wearing makeup (she had at the Ball, after all), though he couldn't tell how it made any difference. Her robes were a grayish violet, long-sleeved and considerably warmer-looking than the pale blue thing she'd worn to the Ball. Unlike the Tantei boys, she was sensibly wearing boots.  
  
"Okay, can we quit the mushy crap?" Yuusuke asked. "Keiko's as bad as Hermione about being on time."  
  
Hiei shoved past them, opened the portrait hole, and left, Kurama in his wake. Harry and the others hurried to follow.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"What's that?" Hermione asked, as the Gryffindors (and Kurama) left the moving staircases.  
  
Hiei glanced at her, then to where she was pointing to the barely-visible inner lining of his haori coat. He hadn't actually looked at the picture yet. "I don't know," he answered, shifting his grip on the silk garment, opening it to see inside. A painting of part of a Japanese shrine, the buildings and scenery strangely familiar, stretched seamlessly inside the upper back of the coat. It took half a moment to place the image, and when he did, he blinked in surprise. "Hiei...?!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's the shrine at Mt. Hiei." In retrospect, he really shouldn't be startled. The kimono had been bought -- if it hadn't been stolen -- by Kurama, after all, and after the dragon on the underkimono... well. It probably amused Kurama to scatter clues. It certainly amused him to make things needlessly complicated.  
  
"You're named after a mountain?" Hermione repeated, incredulous. "You have a shrine?"  
  
"Yes," Hiei replied flatly. Kurama's complications struck again. "I'm named after a mountain. So is Kurama." I think. I actually don't know if Kurama was born before or after the mountain was named, do I? "And no, we do not have shrines."  
  
"Oh." A pause. "It's beautiful."  
  
Hiei grunted. That didn't warrant a response.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
A tiny cluster of four stood just inside the entrance to the courtyard, staring out at the snow. Kuwabara towered in black and white over the Tantei girls, who were all in the bright dresses and wide sashes Harry had expected from the word 'kimono'. All had sleeves far longer than Yukina's usual daywear, coming down nearly to the ankle. Yukina wore pale green with a design of trees, and a deep purple obi tied in a neat bow at her back. Botan was in white, stylized deep blue clouds and bright little flowers all over. Her obi was blue, in a larger and deliberately tilted bow. Keiko wore deep red with a design of multi-colored oranges, and a gold obi.  
  
"Gryffindor colors?" Hermione asked. "Did you do that on purpose?"  
  
Keiko turned away from the courtyard, shaking her head. "No. This was my mother's." Was? Harry thought, but Keiko continued, "She gave it to me last New Year's." She looked past Hermione. "It's a miracle. Yuusuke isn't late."  
  
"Oi!" Yuusuke protested.  
  
"You would be late to your own funeral, I bet," Botan said slyly, peering past Keiko (who elbowed her rudely). Botan ignored this, staring at Yuusuke, then she burst into laughter. Everybody turned to stare.  
  
"Not you too!" Yuusuke groaned.  
  
"Told you," Kurama said. He looked away innocently when Yuusuke growled at him.  
  
Yukina pulled a fan from her obi, flicking it open to hide her face, but she didn't manage to hide the distress in her eyes as she stared at Yuusuke.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I've already heard it. Let's just all laugh at the guy who sucks at Charms. Ha ha. Get an eyeful already and get over it."  
  
Botan tried -- and failed -- to get her laughter under control, as Keiko looked blankly between the blue-haired girl and Yuusuke. On her third glance, she did a double-take.  
  
"YUUSUKE! What sort of sick joke are you pulling?!"  
  
Yuusuke raised his hands defensively. "It was an accident! I swear!"  
  
"I'll swear you! Dressing like a corpse? As if we need to be reminded of last year?" She yanked a fan from her obi and began swatting him over the head with it. "You are so inconsiderate!"  
  
Ron leaned over to Kurama. "What happened last year?" he asked, just loud enough to be heard by Harry and Hermione as well.  
  
"He was hit by a car," Kurama replied, at the same volume. "They thought he was dead; in fact, he very nearly was. He spent... I think it was two months in a coma, and nearly died again during that time when the building he was in burned down."  
  
"Bloody hell," Ron breathed.  
  
"Rough luck, isn't it?" Kurama replied.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Upon reaching Hogsmeade -- which looked far different in the dark -- the professors led them to the main square, bright with fairy lights.  
  
"Now, then, before anybody leaves, Mr. Urameshi," McGonagall said, her voice raising to stop the Gryffindor in his tracks, "we must remind you that this is a chaperoned evening. No students are to go wandering off on their own -- please stay in groups of at least four, if you are not accompanied by an adult." Students groaned. "Everyone is to meet at The Three Broomsticks by 11:30. Should you hear the bells at Hogwarts ringing, you are late."  
  
Dumbledore smiled at the cluster of students and teachers, eyes twinkling. "All your professors have put off several holiday errands to visit the various shops tonight, should you wish to go as well. I myself will be visiting Honeydukes', Zonko's, and the bookstore."  
  
McGonagall took her cue. "I will be visiting the post office, Scrivenshaft's, and retiring to The Three Broomsticks early."  
  
"Dervish and Banges, then the Quidditch shop," Madam Hooch said.  
  
One by one, the other teachers listed where they would be -- presumably the few who didn't, like Snape, planned to walk the streets in case a student did try to wander alone. Then, the group began to break up. The youngest students darted straight to Dumbledore, while older students hung back.  
  
"Decisions, decisions," Ron murmured, half-seriously. "Do we go for candy and jokes and suffer books, sit around while Hooch gets her repairs done and then get to the Quidditch shop, or grab one more person to get a group of four?"  
  
"One more person," Harry answered, his gaze moving swiftly over the crowd. Kuwabara carefully lifted Yukina from Botan's oar (where the sandal-wearing Tantei girls had ridden down from the castle), settling her gallantly on his shoulder. He had to lift his arm to make the perch wide enough, raising his hand so she could catch it for balance. Yuusuke and Keiko were arguing in whispers already, sharp gestures telegraphing the disagreement. Keiko apparently refused to walk in the snow -- which was only smart, considering her feet would freeze in those sandals -- and Yuusuke refused to carry her. To which she seemed to be replying that there was no way she would allow herself to be carried the way Yukina was -- which, again, was only smart, since she and Yuusuke were far closer in size and weight than Kuwabara and Yukina. Yuusuke would drop her if he tried.  
  
The Ravenclaws? Were as impossible as Hermione about books -- they'd never escape the bookstore. The Hufflepuffs? Already queued up with the professors.  
  
Which left only two possibilities. Harry glanced over the crowd again, and blinked. "Guys... where are Hiei and Kurama?"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
At that moment, Hiei was high in the trees north of Hogsmeade, following an elusive flicker of silver in the underbrush below.  
  
It wasn't that he didn't trust Kurama not to do something completely stupid while he was out here. But Hiei had only gotten to see the dog once. Plus, tracking Kurama while he was working not to be seen -- though, admittedly, at only the level required to elude a wild Ningenkai animal -- was decent training. Especially while trying to keep his kimono perfect, despite the snow, jagged branches, and brittle, dirty bark.  
  
They reached the tree where Hiei had first seen the dog's cave from, Hiei landing soundlessly in the bare branches, as high as he could get without being visible against the starry sky. Below him, Kurama ducked behind the thick trunk, tails lashing excitedly as he peered towards the stream and cave.  
  
The dog was there, jumping about on the bank of the iced-over stream joyfully, in plain sight... but he wasn't alone. A man in shabby robes stood with him, turning as the dog bounced in circles around him.  
  
A faint puff of mist, and Youko leapt silently to the branches just below Hiei, inexplicably managing to blend in despite his silvery coloring. "I can't tell," he murmured, voice just above a whisper -- the raspy nature of whispering drew attention too easily. "But it may be the boy in the photograph."  
  
"What boy?" Hiei asked. What photograph?  
  
"Friend of Black and Potter. Lupin."  
  
"The Lupin who taught DADA?" Hiei asked. Youko nodded. "He'd know. He'd report you." Remus Lupin had been the only good Defense professor in Genkai's notes. He might know what a five-tailed fox was.  
  
A pause. "I want to get nearer. Get..." he tapped his nose.  
  
Hiei glanced up. The moon was mere days from full. "You get that," Hiei said sternly, unable to think of a way to say 'his scent' without sibilants that would carry too far, "and the werewolf Lupin will, too." They might not know how strong an animagus' sense of smell was, but Hiei knew exactly how strong a werewolf's was. Shigure's library had held no less than six different books on the medical aspects of the disease (and three on Reikai's work to catch and jail the demon scientist who'd created it, not that it was relevant right now).  
  
"Maybe," Youko replied.  
  
"Definitely. One more meter, maybe two." They could only get that much closer before Lupin would notice them in this cold, empty stretch of snowed-under woods.  
  
Under their watchful gazes, Lupin put a collar and leash on the dog. There was no reason for him to do that... unless the two were going to a wizard settlement tonight. The man and dog blinked from sight, Apparating somewhere.  
  
Gold and false-black eyes met, bright with identical deductions. The dog was Harry's friend, the nearest wizard settlement was Hogsmeade, and Harry just happened to be there tonight for the holiday.  
  
"This was a waste of time, fox," Hiei said.  
  
Youko just grinned.  
  
They were going back to Hogsmeade.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The bell above the door to Honeydukes jingled.  
  
"Sir? Sir, you can't bring your dog in here!" the man behind the register said, hurrying out from behind the counter.  
  
A familiar voice answered him, causing Harry to stop his tracks. "I won't be long," Professor Lupin said. "I just wanted to stop in long enough to check something." Harry dropped his basket of candies on the floor, hurrying towards the front of the store. "Headmaster, there you are. I was wondering..."  
  
"Of course, of course," Dumbledore's voice was cheery, though slightly muffled, as if he hadn't quite finished his current piece of candy.  
  
Harry squeezed past a wide-eyed second-year, who was staring up at the shelves of candy in unabashed awe, and popped out into the front area of the store. "Pro-- Remus!" he said. "Snuffles!"  
  
Remus grinned. "Happy New Year, Harry. Hermione, Ron." He shook Padfoot's red leash. "Say hello, Snuffles."  
  
Snuffles sat and held his paw out in the universal doggie 'shake' trick, his tongue lolling. Harry smiled, taking the paw. Snuffles slipped it from his grip and batted at Harry's hair.  
  
"You guys go outside," Hermione said. "I'll pay and be right out."  
  
Harry followed Remus' glance to Dumbledore. The headmaster waved towards the street. "I would hardly have invited you here just to keep you apart! But I do believe Snuffles is worrying Mr. Bannock... he is eyeing that vat of chocolate just a bit too eagerly, don't you think?"  
  
Remus' eyes gleamed. "No, Snuffles," he said, mock-sternly, before turning back to Dumbledore. "We'll just be outside, then." He pushed the door back open, gesturing outside. "Harry? Ron?"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"How much of that potion did you take?" Hiei asked, perched in the shadows of the Shrieking Shack's chimneys, next to Youko. _How much longer are we stuck here before we can slip back into town?_  
  
"Barely a sip," Youko answered, gaze pinned to the sprinkle of golden lights that was Hogsmeade. "Just enough to get to and from the cave, with about ten minutes extra to look around."  
  
Good. That meant they could go in another couple of minutes.  
  
"How far do we need to stay from the werewolf?" Youko asked.  
  
As far as possible. "With the crowd and the masking odors of the town... a streets' width," Hiei replied, calculating quickly. "Another half that by dawn." He paused, thinking of something. "That assumes he would recognize what he was smelling," he admitted.  
  
"He would know," Kurama said glumly. Hiei glanced at him -- the voice was back, the kimono was back, the ears and tail were gone, but the hair was still shot through with silver, though that was vanishing quickly. "He's sure to have smelled fox before, if not fox demon. Everybody knows there's no one with a pet fox at Hogwarts."  
  
Which wouldn't be enough excuse for smelling that much of fox anyway, Hiei knew. And there was no excuse for himself or Yukina. And Kurama's hair was completely red again.  
  
With Kurama finished shifting back to his human self, they leapt off the roof and snuck back into town. Passing a few stores, staying to the shadows, the two of them were nearly to Honeydukes when Hiei stopped short and shoved Kurama into a dark nook behind a rainspout.  
  
Harry had just stepped from the candy store, next to the werewolf and the dog. His face was bright with joy, easily visible in the lamplight shining from the windows, though the moon had just slid behind a large cloud. Ron followed on his heels, grinning around a lollipop. They moved a meter or so closer to Hiei and Kurama's hiding place, moving out of the line of traffic.  
  
"--n't believe you're here!" Harry said, as they moved just within (demon) earshot. "I thought you were under Fide--"  
  
"Shh," Remus said quickly. "The place I'm staying at is, that's all. I haven't been further than the corner market for months." He quirked a grin. "Poor Snuffles here has been climbing the walls of his kennel all day."  
  
There was a strange emphasis on the word 'kennel', to Hiei's ears. It sounded like a code word, or a euphemism of some sort: most likely a substitute for the word 'cave'. And it didn't escape him that Lupin was speaking of himself in the singular. He and 'Snuffles' were living in different places, then.  
  
"Interesting," Kurama murmured, breath tickling Hiei's ear. "Did I tell you I think the dog's a fugitive?"  
  
Hiei leaned back slightly, tilting his head towards Kurama's to make it easier for the fox to hear him. "You didn't." That meant Dumbledore had to know about the dog, and Harry's association with it. Otherwise, it would be too risky for the dog to come into town.  
  
"Raises questions, doesn't it?" The fox's voice was bright with curiosity. If he'd been in fox-form, Hie would bet money that he'd be licking his chops. "I want answers..."  
  
"You always want answers." Puzzle-loving thief.  
  
Hermione dashed from the shop, beaming and loaded down with a large bag, and joined the small group. "Happy Hogmanay, Professor Remus!" she said happily, scratching the dog's head.  
  
"Happy Hogmanay, Hermione," he replied. "How's my favorite old student?"  
  
"Hey!" Ron and Harry chorused. Snuffles winked at them.  
  
"I'm doing great! Defense this year is wonderful -- there's so much more work, all sorts of extra tutoring, and we're learning about demons, and it's so good to have another professor who knows what they're talking about--"  
  
"Now you've gone and gotten her started..." Ron mock-grumbled. Snuffles flopped onto Remus' foot in a very put-upon attitude for a dog, echoing Ron's sentiment. But he's not a dog, Hiei thought. Eloquent for a mutt -- very experienced at being a dog.  
  
Remus ignored it. "I certainly don't have to ask how you're doing in classes," he said. "Top grades in everything but Potions, correct?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "But it's not entirely unfair this year," she said, a strange mix of indignation and relief in her voice. "The new Slytherin is honestly good at Potions."  
  
("Not that honestly," Kurama murmured into Hiei's ear. "A thousand years' experience with mixing my plants, and adding animal bits and stewing isn't hard.")  
  
"Severus must be delighted. My condolences."  
  
"Not entirely delighted," Hermione replied, mouth curving into a wicked little smile. "Minamino's best friend is a Gryffindor."  
  
Snuffles whuffed gleefully, tail wagging, and Remus shoved him into the snow with his foot. "Be nice," he chided, failing to stifle a smile. "I have more questions that this lunkhead--" he nudged Snuffles again, "-- would never think to ask. Just how are Harry and Ron's grades?"  
  
The boys squawked in horror.  
  
"Why, Remus," Hermione said sweetly, "you think I would rat on my friends?"  
  
Remus shook his head. "That bad, hm?"  
  
"Can we talk about something else?" Ron asked plantively, his face clearly unhappy under the reappearing moonlight. "We're having a killer Quidditch season--" He broke off, as Lupin suddenly tensed and glanced about. "Pro-- Remus?"  
  
"We're being watched."  
  
Shit! Hiei thought, instinctively -- and needlessly -- glancing upward at the moon. Kurama's hand tightened on his shoulder, tugging ever-so-slightly towards the rooftops. Hiei didn't bother to nod his understanding: he leapt, leaving a tiny burst of magic to melt the snow and erase their prints.  
  
The two of them scrambled silently over the roof, ran two buildings' length along the gutter on the far side, and landed in an empty alley. Hiei brushed an imaginary wrinkle from his hakama pants, and they melted into the crowds and entered the garden shop.  
  
Damn werewolf.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"We're being watched," Remus said, eyes scanning the street. Watched?! Harry thought, hand twitching towards his wand. But Remus shook his head, slowly relaxing. "It's gone."  
  
"A reporter?" Hermione asked. "Or...?"  
  
"I can't tell." Remus pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. "I don't think it was hostile, but there was something... the wolf's hard to interpret, sometimes."  
  
Ron turned, staring warily at the street. "But you're sure it's gone."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Harry wasn't entirely convinced, and the other two looked faintly dubious as well, but he let the subject drop.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The Three Broomsticks was filled to the brim with students, professors, and townspeople, as the bells of Hogwarts began to sound.  
  
Well, Harry thought, one bell. A deep, solemn one, booming ponderously in the distance, magically enhanced somehow to carry to Hogsmeade and still be heard faintly over the celebratory din-- particularly the group of men with huge mugs of beer over by the tap, who were singing loudly, happily, and only somewhat in key. Fortunately, the song didn't seem to be one that particularly required any specific key: a drinking song, if Harry guessed right, though the words were probably being censored a bit. What wasn't getting censored had Hermione blushing brightly as it was.  
  
The three of them, Remus, and Snuffles had found a table in a dim corner, where few people would be able to see the dog or Harry clearly. A round of hot, spiced cider graced their table, along with a basket of oatcakes, and Madam Rosmerta had placed a plateful of ground beef on the floor for Snuffles.  
  
The door swung open, and Kuwabara set Yukina inside, as carefully as if she were made of china. He followed, and they found the Tantei table and sat. Two mugs of the eggnog-thick 'amazake' stuff half of them were drinking appeared before them, tiny spoons of minced ginger balanced on the rim. (The other half -- Genkai, Yuusuke, Hiei, and Kurama -- had funny-shaped ceramic bottles of some clear liquid.)  The other Tantei tossed their cards onto the table, and Kurama scooped them up, dealing Kuwabara and Yukina into their game.  
  
As the men started up a different song, this one louder, but in better harmony, the crowd shifted. A pair of older wizards conjured up a fiddle and a flute, and began to play counterpoint to the drinkers' rowdy tune. The crowd shifted, and a large expanse of floorspace cleared opposite the fire. Couples spread into the space, now visibly a dance floor: newlyweds, older couples, relatives -- a father spinning a giggling, pigtailed toddler in his arms; a pre-Hogwarts girl on the edge of the crowd, trying to teach her younger sister; a pair of fortysomething siblings, nearly identical except for gender; Dumbledore and McGonagall...  
  
Harry looked away as Yuusuke plopped down at their table, slightly red in the face. He set one of the funny-shaped bottles down next to the cider. "Akemashite!" he said, the strange word slurred. "Omedeto gozaimasu!"  
  
Harry blinked at him, but Remus nodded politely. "And a happy new year to you, too."  
  
"Yuusuke, are you drunk?!" Hermione asked.  
  
Yuusuke blinked. "Iiya. It's just sake. Mild as mother's milk and all that."  
  
Keiko appeared behind Yuusuke as if by magic. "Don't you believe a word of that," she told them. "He has no sense of scale -- sake is about 30 proof."  
  
"Thirty--!"  
  
"Yuusuke, what are you doing over here, anyway?" Keiko asked. "I thought we all agreed not to bother them?"  
  
Yuusuke jiggled the bottle. "It's not right that they don't get ta have any."  
  
"Yuusuke!" Keiko plucked the bottle from his grasp, bowing mostly towards Remus. "Excuse us, please." She dragged Yuusuke up from the chair and away. "Britain has underage laws...!"  
  
As she pulled Yuusuke back to her own table, the music stopped. A large clock, glowing in firewriting, appeared over the mantel. The hands pointed to 11:59; the second hand ticked to 49, drawing a single second of attentive quiet over the crowd. It ticked again.  
  
"Ten!"  
  
Dumbledore turned the ceiling of the pub clear.  
  
"Nine!"  
  
"HEADMASTER!" Rosmerta yelled.  
  
"Eight!"  
  
"Only a five-minute charm, Madam, I promise!"  
  
"Seven!"  
  
"Shichi!" Yuusuke called instead.  
  
"Six!"  
  
Keiko poked him. "English, Yuusuke!"  
  
"Five!"  
  
Snuffles sat up, putting a heavy paw onto Harry's shoulder.  
  
"Four!"  
  
Hermione edged closer to Ron.  
  
"Three!"  
  
Yukina leaned against Kuwabara, smiling.  
  
"Two!"  
  
Unseen by anybody, Kurama's hand slipped into Hiei's.  
  
"One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Snuffles licked Harry from chin to ear. "ACK! SNUFFLES!" Remus burst out laughing.  
  
Fireworks exploded, glittering dragons and comets zooming across the sky, showering bright light in all the colors of the rainbow over Hogsmeade. The bells from Hogwarts fell silent, and the pub burst into song.  
  
 _Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_  
  
 _And never brought to mind;_  
  
 _Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_  
  
 _And the days of auld lang syne..._  
  
Five seconds of sentimentally-charged silence filled the pub, once the song finished. Then...  
  
"Another round, Rosmerta!"  
  



	32. Many Happy Returns

  
The next Sunday, Hiei woke to find a cat on his stomach, a small stack of cards on his nightstand, and a branch of plum blossoms in his water pitcher. Several weeks too early, he thought grumpily, pushing Yuki gently off him and getting nipped for his trouble. There aren't any plum trees nearby. The garden and flower shops in Hogsmeade don't sell branches... There was only one possible conclusion: Kurama. Slowly, he picked up the cards: seven sheets of stiff paper, which didn't fold like Western greeting cards did.  
  
"Omedeto tanjoubi," he murmured, reading the top one aloud.  
  
He should've expected this, really. The rest of the Tantei knew it was Yukina's birthday. With the 'they're twins!' cover story, if they wanted to give Yukina presents, they had to give Hiei something too.  
  
Hiei smirked slightly. Bet Kuwabara didn't like that. He flipped through the pile, finding Kuwabara's card. It was hastily-written -- no kanji, and the hiragana were splotchy and blotted with ink -- and to the point. Happy Birthday, whenever the heck it really is.  
  
Yuki sniffed curiously at one of the pale flowers, then ate it.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Lunchtime rolled around, and the students gathered at their table in the Great Hall, jostling for space and laughing. Some were red-cheeked and wet from building snow forts on the lawn all morning -- Yukina, Ron, all the younger students, and Harry himself. Yuusuke, Kuwabara, Keiko, and Botan had helped as well, but they arrived for lunch considerably drier and warmer-looking; they'd left ten or fifteen minutes before the lunch bell rang.  
  
The reason for this became clear as the Hall filled. Each Tantei entered carrying a brightly-wrapped package with them, and set it down on or by Yukina's plate before taking their own seat. A thick, neatly-wrapped square from Keiko and Yuusuke, a rounded package from Hiei, a smaller bundle from Botan, a box and a bouquet of vibrant, mixed flowers from Kuwabara, a smaller bouquet of white heather from Kurama, and non-folding cards from them all, overflowed the place before her by the time they were done.  
  
She blinked several times. "What's this?" she asked, once the last Tantei (Kurama) sat down.  
  
Botan grinned. "As the Westerners say, 'a little bird told us' that it's your birthday."  
  
Harry blinked this time. It is?  
  
"It is?!" Hermione asked, echoing Harry's thoughts.  
  
"Yes," Yukina answered softly. She pulled the bright bouquet from Kuwabara towards her, blushing faintly. "There are so many..."  
  
Harry glanced at Hiei. They were twins, so this had to be Hiei's birthday too... but the boy's place was empty, not so much as a card there. Hiei caught his look.  
  
"I got mine this morning," he said curtly.  
  
"We know him too well," Kurama murmured, softly enough that only Harry could hear. "So only Yukina gets the noisy public displays."  
  
Ah. That made sense... to anyone who hadn't been raised with Dudley Dursley. Unfortunately, Harry had, and this pretty much stank of favoritism. "What did you get?" Harry asked, testing for lies.  
  
"Cards," Hiei answered, without any hesitation. "Clothes. Candy." He turned faintly red. "And a branch of plum flowers."  
  
"Plum flowers?"  
  
Hiei jerked a thumb at Kurama, who smiled sheepishly and said, "It's only a few weeks too early. And flowers don't carry the same negative connota--"  
  
"Oniisan, thank you!"  
  
They looked back down the table at Yukina's accidental interruption. The other Tantei looked over her shoulder, at a mottled package of...  
  
"Birdseed?" Kuwabara squawked.  
  
Hiei scowled down at his plate.  
  
"Birdseed?" Kurama repeated, craning his neck to see the package more clearly. He sat back. "What a thoughtful gift. Food will be starting to get scarce by now."  
  
Yukina beamed. "Yes, and I so hate to bother the House Elves."  
  
The rest of the table still looked rather dubious, so Kurama smiled charmingly, his eyes falling on Yuusuke and Kuwabara. "Don't you think it's a thoughtful gift?" he asked, a slightly unnerving edge to his voice.  
  
Harry wasn't on the recieving end of Kurama's stare, but the tone alone was enough to make him shiver. Beside him, Ron gulped. Yuusuke and Kuwabara paled and began nodding enthusiastically.  
  
"Yup, uh huh, definitely, good gift."  
  
And with that, the topic was dropped.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Yukina's side won the after-lunch snowball war -- again -- and declared the terms of surrender shortly after 2 pm. The losing side was to provide the hot drinks in their respective common rooms, and all of them were to finish their homework without complaint, if they hadn't done so already.  
  
Harry and Ron, Gryffindors to the core, took their defeat gracelessly, but stuck to the letter of the terms... if not the spirit. Thus, an hour later, with Hermione attempting to verbally beat the lessons into their skulls, the two of them did not complain. They did, however, make faces, doodle in the margins of their books (Harry managed a credible sketch of a Firebolt), fidget, and get up to refill their drinks at every opportunity.  
  
As the sun set, and their parchment got more sloppy and blotchy with fatigue and the panic of an approaching deadline, something began to poke at Harry's mind distractingly. It was like he'd forgotten something...  
  
"So a verification potion is used to check for forged documents and signatures, counterfeit money, and it matches keys to locks," Hermione was saying, "For example, all of Gringott's keys are exactly alike, physically, but by treating the door and key with--"  
  
Her voice faded into the background, as Harry focused inwards, trying to figure out what was bothering him. It wasn't that he'd forgotten something, that wasn't quite right, but... something was out of place. Something... but what...? He tapped the feather end of his quill against his cheek, and froze at the tickly, almost-imperceptible touch on his face.  
  
That was it. He could feel his scar.  
  
Oh bloody hell...  
  
Oddly enough, it didn't hurt at all. It didn't burn, or even itch. It was just... there. A jagged line of there-ness under his bangs, as painlessly strange as the knot of his school necktie on the first day of classes, or the touch of his Quidditch gear in the locker room before the first practice of the year.  
  
"Harry? Harry! Have you been listening to a word I've said?"  
  
Harry blinked up at Hermione, jarred out of his swirling thoughts. "Yes?"  
  
She rolled her eyes and huffed in disbelief. "Then what was I saying about the chemical interaction between dropbear fur and jellied snipe feet in verification potions?"  
  
"Er... it has to be started before adding them to the cauldron?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione said, satisfied. "So you mix them together in a separate bowl twenty minutes before you--"  
  
She continued to speak, and absently, Harry brought a hand up to rub across his scar. What is Voldemort up to, that it doesn't actually hurt for a change?  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The train arrived shortly before dinner, bearing its annual load of students still grasping at holiday cheer, their heads forcibly emptied of scholarly impulses and their trunks forcibly filled with Christmas loot. ('Forcibly' wasn't an exaggeration; every year, Draco's House Elves expanded the interior of his trunk another couple of square feet to make room for his new goods.)  
  
Another term of Mudbloods, Draco thought sourly, tiredly, as the horseless carriages rolled jarringly up the steep road to the castle. Another term of everybody fawning over Potter, of that tiny, lumpy bed, of plebian, institution food and ugly, scratchy school robes.  
  
But then... another term of no parents. Another term of winning at Quidditch. Because whenever they didn't play against Potter, they won. Another term of being the best of the smart people, who know exactly how important class is. I am Draco Malfoy, and my family is one of the three oldest remaining in the wizarding world -- on both sides!  
  
The Malfoys and their guests all knew that, though. The liberals at Hogwarts didn't -- wouldn't -- even try to understand. There are none so blind, as those who will not see, as his mother said.  
  
Draco huddled into his cloak and tried to convince himself that being back at school was great, anyway.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
By the time the curfew warning bells began to ring, fifteen minutes before curfew as always, Hiei had been 'happy birthday'd a dozen times over by the bravest Gryffindors (and not a few of the students with absolutely no common sense or survival instinct). One particular idiot, a fourteen-year-old Ravenclaw girl whose intelligence seemed to disappear when it hadn't come out of a book, had actually popped out of hiding and thrown glittery, multi-colored confetti at him; he'd barely managed to stop his instinctive attack response, and there were still a few of the bright flakes stuck in his hair.  
  
No more of this human 'happy birthday' crap. It was past time to beat a strategic retreat.  
  
Hiei dug into the dimensional pocket hidden in his trunk lid, came out with his katana, and ducked out the window to sleep on the roof.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
 _The space was dark, small and cozy -- perhaps too much so for some, but he was small for his age and didn't need much air. It was warming, now, that was all that mattered, though the damp air still tasted of parchment and ink, leather and brass, boy-food and sugar-food, and the heavy wool and cotton he nestled under._  
  
 _A click, and a thin line of less-dark broke the space in two. It was time, then._  
  
 _He nudged the lid of the space open with his blunt nose, and slid from the space, landing on the worn green rug of outside with an imperceptible rasp. He raised his head, careful to keep the chain-thing with its color-stone away from the floor -- this was extremely important -- and slid into the green-draped hallway._  
  
 _Cold--!_  
  
The shock of cold stone on his belly woke Harry up. Where--?! he thought wildly, staring at a room that definitely was NOT the dorm. He was sitting slumped in an overstuffed chair, a bookcase on one side and a window on the other. Worn, red tapestries framed the window, and the view of the Forbidden Forest was unmistakeable.  
  
He'd dozed off in the Gryffindor common room. The warm space was empty, the fire burning low -- nowhere near out yet, but low enough that it had to be midnight or thereabouts -- and his scar was so there it was almost starting to hurt...  
  
Not a dream, then. A vision? Of a massive snake in the Slytherin dorms... after something... no. Someone.  
  
"Hell--!" Harry yelped under his breath, snapping forward out of his chair. He'd felt fangs in his -- no, the snake's -- mouth through the vision. He didn't care that they were Slytherins, they couldn't face a venomous snake that size, especially not in their sleep!  
  
Two steps towards the portrait hole, and Harry remembered that he didn't know what the Slytherin password was, he was some ten stories and a full building away from the dungeons, and he needed his Invisibility Cloak. If I take the time to grab it, though... but I need it! Unless...  
  
On impulse, he whirled and smacked his hand against a particular stone in the fireplace. The hidden, prefects-only drawer popped open, filled to the brim with silvery dust. Scooping up a handful, Harry threw it into the fire, which flared up bright green, and stuck his head in.  
  
"Professor McGonagall!"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama tapped at the toggles of his spyeyes, cycling through views at a measured, efficient pace. Nothing stirred except portraits in the hallways of the 7th floor... the 6th... the 5th...  
  
A faint rasp in the corridor, too quiet for human ears to notice, caught his attention, and he waved the spyeye leaves back into hiding in the canopy. Where had he heard such a sound before...? The rasp came again: a long, slow, dry pulsation, and Kurama found himself expecting a hiss or a telltale rattle.  
  
A snake--!  
  
He quietly pivoted on the covers, sliding his feet into his slippers on the floor, and edged out from behind his bedcurtains. I'm so glad the House Elves keep the doors well-maintained, Kurama thought, as he silently lifted the latch, pushing the door open without the creaking of old wood or unoiled hinges.  
  
Far down the hallway, in the direction of the common room, a flicker of movement -- a finger's length of pale green, reptilian tail -- vanished around a corner. Kurama hurried to follow.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Professor!" Harry yelled yet again. Five more seconds, then I run like hell and stop the snake myself because my Head of House sleeps like a log!  
  
In the fiery magic covering Harry's head, copying it to McGonagall's fireplace, the image of the professor's living room flickered in greens. The strange coloring limited his vision to the couch and the rug before it, everything past that colored in shadows that merely suggested a room. He could, however, hear a door thud open, instants before the professor herself strode into view.  
  
Harry would've snickered at her quilted, plaid dressing gown and granny nightcap, if the situation wasn't so serious. "Finally!" he burst out. "There's a snake down in the Slytherin dorms I know it sounds crazy but I think it's Voldemort's and it's HUGE and poisonous and it's hunting someone--"  
  
"POTTER!" McGonagall raised a hand, eyes wide, sleepiness fading from her face quickly. "Take a breath. Start from the beginning. Speak in actual sentences."  
  
There was no time for this, the snake was there now-- But the professors could get to the snake before he could, by Floo'ing directly into the Slytherin dorms. He just had to convince one, fast. "My scar's been feeling weird all evening. I dozed off in the common room. I had a dream, where a large snake was hunting in the Slytherin dorms -- or someplace that's a dungeon draped in green tapestries that smells of human teenagers. It's under orders to attack someone. I don't know who. It's down there now." That had better be good enough...  
  
"Potter, you realize that is one of the most preposterous tales I've ever been woken in the middle of the night to hear?"  
  
"Have I ever made up lies like this?! IT'S DOWN THERE NOW!"  
  
McGonagall took his outburst in stride, sighing. "Very well, Potter. Please remove yourself from my fire so I can Floo in to check."  
  
Harry jerked back, blinking furiously to reorient his eyes to the dark, non-green colors of the common room, then ran for the stairs to retrieve his Cloak.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama pressed himself against the cool stones of the corridor wall, just inside the archway to the Slytherin common room. The serpent hadn't turned into any of the boys' dorm rooms, so its target -- whether a person or an object or something else, Kurama had no idea -- wasn't among that eighth of the school's population. So it would either be sneaking into the girls' dorms, or through the common room and out into the rest of the school.  
  
He might lose the trail if it got out there, so he really only had one option. _It's a pity I won't get to discover its target._ He slipped a hand into the depths of his hair, seeking the familar spikes of his rose twig, and stepped smoothly into the common room.  
  
The snake was towards the far end of the room, clearly aiming for the door into the school proper. It was a beautiful example of its kind, Kurama noted. As Kurama took a second step, fingers pinching on his rose, the snake's tongue flickered. Instantly, the creature snapped around, hissing furiously.  
  
It had his scent.  
  
It leapt for him, mouth wide, fangs glistening.  
  
"Rose Whip!"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry ran through the school as if he had Bludgers at his heels, his footsteps echoing through the narrow corridors and vaulted halls of the castle. He caught at a carved statue, using his momentum to fling himself into the entranceway to the dungeons, and nearly ran headlong into Professor Snape. On instinct, he threw himself against the wall, pressing himself as flat as possible, but the professor didn't so much as falter as he stormed past.  
  
Behind him, hidden by the professor's billowing robes -- even his dressing gown is as dramatic and intimidating as the rest of his wardrobe! Harry thought -- Snape dragged a familiar, redheaded Slytherin by one arm. Kurama's pajamas were splattered with blood, some of it splashed onto his face, and he stumbled in Snape's wake. McGonagall followed the both of them, a blood-stained rose in her hands, stern face creased in an all-too-familiar expression of worry.  
  
Harry fell into step behind them. He had to know what happened. And they wouldn't both be walking a student to the Infirmary if the snake was still on the loose, right?  
  
Up a flight of stairs, and slowly Harry began to take in more details than just 'Kurama, pajamas, blood'. The Slytherin Tantei was mumbling something, the jarring pace knocking the breathy words into nonsense. Down a hallway and up another flight, with Kurama tripping over the last step, and Harry realized that Kurama wasn't paying any attention to where he was going -- in fact, was staring off at some point upwards and to the left. Blood loss? Shock? Harry had been in a similar state after Cedric, and after the Dementors, and after fighting the basilisk... although, granted, he'd been poisoned then. Had Kurama been bitten, before the professors had gotten to him?  
  
Snape flung the Infirmary doors open and bellowed for Pomfrey, then spun Kurama and pushed him to sit on a bed... revealing a snake's head embedded in the boy's left shoulder. Harry quietly sidestepped the nurse as she rushed in, his gaze pinned to the gory remnants.  
  
It was Nagini.  
  
Kurama swayed slightly, then his eyes fell on Snape. "I can't follow the snake," he said, the words crystal clear now that he was sitting still. "I killed the snake, I can't follow the snake--"  
  
"Severus, what is he talking about?" McGonagall asked, as Pomfrey Accio'd a wheeled cartful of supplies across the room. She opened a cabinet in the base, pulling out bottles of potion, gauze, a tray, and a tool distressingly similar to a set of pliers.  She held the tray underneath the snakehead, flicked her wand, and the pliers attached themselves to Nagini's fangs, yanking them free.  
  
The head plopped sickeningly onto the tray, and Pomfrey shoved it briskly into Snape's hands, now free to go after her patient with the potions and gauze.  
  
Snape leaned over the tray, pinching at something under the gore where the snake's body would've attached to its head. He pulled a necklace free. "A sticking charm -- probably so the snake wouldn't slither right out of it," he murmured to himself. A pause, as he brought it a bit closer to his face, and then he suddenly struck the pendant against the nearest nightstand.  
  
"Follow the snake," Voldemort's voice echoed from the pendant, sibilant and smug. Everyone but Kurama paled. "Pick up the snake. Apparate to me."  
  
"I can't follow the snake," Kurama repeated.  
  
"Don't obey the voice from the pendant, Minamino," Snape commanded, voice tight.  
  
"'Kay..." He sagged against Madam Pomfrey, eyes still open and awake, but all the tension visibly draining from his body.  
  
Snape eyed Kurama measuringly, then nodded to himself. "The venom seems to induce a hypnotic state, malleable and open to suggestions," he murmured. "Though I have no idea what species it is--"  
  
"It's a naga's hound," Kurama interrupted absently. "Rani had one. She taught it to dance Kali-Upon-The-World with her, and turned ten square miles of cropland into impenetrable jungle when it died..."  
  
"Minamino, your judgement is currently impaired," Snape said. "Do be quiet for the next twenty minutes."  
  
Kurama's mouth snapped shut, though he continued to stare dazedly into space, and Snape cast a quick silencing charm over the hospital bed. "If you must take that charm off, Poppy, monitor your words. I have little doubt that, at this point, anything Minamino hears could have permanent effects." Pomfrey nodded, and silently taped off the bandage. She pushed on Kurama's uninjured shoulder, directing him to lie down (his eyes fell closed before his head landed on the pillow), as Snape turned to McGonagall.  
  
"Minerva... what were you doing to be calling me from the Slytherin common room at one in the morning?"  
  
McGonagall sighed. "Harry Potter had another vision."  
  
"Harry Potter," Snape repeated, his lips thinning into a sneer.  
  
"Now, Severus, I know you don't like the boy--"  
  
"If he's involved..." Snape trailed off, peering suspisciously around the room. Abruptly, he flicked his wand. "Accio Circumscriptus Harry Potter!"  
  
Harry stifled a yelp as he was jerked off his feet, magically sailing towards Snape -- who caught him neatly in one arm, yanking the head of the Cloak back with a snarl.  
  
"Potter!"  
  
"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall exclaimed. "Curfew... you're a prefect, for Merlin's sake!"  
  
Snape yanked the Cloak off of Harry, eliciting a "Hey--!"  
  
"An Invisibility Cloak. An Invisibility Cloak," Snape repeated, snapping it deftly out of Harry's grasp. "You idiot child! We spend countless hours working to keep you alive, and all this time you've been sneaking about looking for trouble in an Invisiblity Cloak!"  
  
McGonagall joined in. "Of all the... what were you thinking, Mr. Potter?" (It was bloody creepy to find Snape and McGonagall in perfect agreement, particularly about being furious at a student.)  
  
"I was thinking," Harry hissed, "that it was a snake and I'm the only bloody Parselmouth in the school. I was thinking that I might be able to at least confuse it long enough to kill it before it attacked someone! What else would I have been thinking?!"  
  
"You--!" Snape swallowed whatever words he'd been about to say, taking a deep, frustrated breath through gritted teeth. "Idiotic - Gryffindor - heroics," he muttered to himself under his breath. His next words were directed at Harry. "You have obviously not learned from experience. I will be keeping this," he shook the Cloak, "until the end of the year."  
  
"No--!" Harry shot a mutely pleading glance at McGonagall, but her expression showed full agreement.  
  
"I'll escort you back to your dorm, Mr. Potter," she said flatly, taking him firmly by the arm. Snape let go, and he and Harry glared at each other until the Infirmary doors closed, cutting them off.  
  
McGonagall slowed almost instantly after that, though her grip didn't loosen in the slightest. As they rounded the corner of the corridor and started down the stairs -- the connecting hallway to the moving staircases on this floor was still closed up, despite the fact that Fluffy didn't inhabit it anymore -- she spoke.  
  
"You did well tonight, Mr. Potter -- before you ran haring off into danger," she said, her stern, firm tone reassuring; if she felt no need to force optimism, and her voice wasn't shaking, she honestly did think nothing was too much of a problem. "The snake is dead, and Mr. Minamino is receiving excellent care -- if worst comes to worst, we can easily call a healer from St. Mungo's, and I understand one of Professor Genkai's Hufflepuffs is a natural healer as well.  
  
"I certainly understand your instinct to run to the rescue yourself..." and now her voice was starting to shake. Harry glanced at her nervously. "We have hardly-- we have hardly been proper guardians for you before."  
  
"You've been fine," Harry muttered, not entirely truthfully. They tried. It wasn't their fault Voldemort kept getting past their guard. And it wasn't entirely untrue that he didn't go jumping headfirst into danger when he thought he could help. But...  
  
"He didn't have to take it," he grumbled.  
  
No response.  
  
"It was my Dad's."  
  
No response."  
  
"Dumbledore gave it to me."  
  
"Merlin knows what Albus was thinking, then," McGonagall replied, her voice stern once more. Damn. It didn't work. The professor tapped at the Fat Lady's frame, waking her. "Impish Snare."  
  
"'S a li'l late t' be out, dearie..." the Fat Lady mumbled, yawning as she swung the portrait open.  
  
McGonagall released Harry's arm at the foot of the boys' stairs. "Go to bed."  
  
Growling, Harry trudged up the stairs and went to bed. Cloakless.  
  



	33. Grapevine

  
  
_Step, step, step, turn. Step, step, step, turn. Tapping of fingers on the hilt of a wand. Billow of fabric about his legs. Step, step, step, turn. Glance at the sky -- (why? Harry wondered. The answer came in a low breath of information: the pre-dawn constellations of winter were starting to rise.)_  
  
 _A sweeping spin, settle into a wingback chair. Take in a breath, impatience rasping dryly in his throat._  
  
 _"What's TAKING so long?" he hissed._  
  
 _It wasn't Harry's voice._  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The winter dawn constellations were beginning to rise, and a light frost had formed over Hiei, when he woke at roughly six. He shook the thin film of ice from his cloak with a deft flick, ran a hand through his hair to dislodge the frost there, and lowered himself back through the window into Gryffindor Tower proper. Then, he walked down the two spiral flight to the 5th-year dorm in utter silence, his shoes making no sound on the cold stone, and re-entered his room. He had to put his katana away before anyone woke and caught him with it.  
  
A low, pained whimper caught his attention, as he re-covered the dimensional pocket in the lid. He eased his trunk closed, snapping the catch locked once more, and glanced around the room.  
  
The sound had come from Harry's bed. Two steps, and he gently brushed the bedcurtain aside. Harry lay among crumpled bedclothes, pale and sweating -- _are humans supposed to do that?_ \-- his scar a red line over his forehead. _That looks almost fresh -- which definitely isn't natural to humans._  
  
Hiei spun, slapping open the bedcurtains of Ron's bed, and shook the boy by the shoulder. Ron jolted awake with a gasp born of prankster siblings, and Hiei waited just a moment, until Ron's eyes had focused on him. "What do you people do with this?" he asked, jerking his thumb to point at Harry.  
  
"Wha...?"  
  
"Potter. The damn scar--" He didn't get to finish the sentence. Ron bolted upright, knocking Hiei's arm away and shoving past him to get a look.  
  
"Did you try to wake him?"  
  
Hiei shot him a look. _Of course not, you idiot._  
  
"Of course you did," Ron muttered to himself. Hiei didn't correct him. "Okay, then. Help me get him up and we'll--" he glanced at Hiei, a flick of eyes checking height, "-- er, no, that won't work. It'll be awkwar-- what am I saying?" He grabbed his wand from his nightstand. "Mobilicorpus!"  
  
Harry's body rose a few inches from the bed, and Ron carefully manuveured him over the floor. "I'll keep the charm going, if you tilt him upright and help push him to the Infirmary? I can't."  
  
Hiei opened his mouth to say 'hell no', but Harry whimpered in his sleep and shifted. His head lolled towards Hiei, sweat plastering his hair to his too-pale skin, his scar livid -- it almost looked like it was about to start bleeding. "...Fine."  
  
They bolted.  
  
Eyes followed them from the instant they hit the common room, and footsteps rang in their wake: both the echoes of Hiei's and Ron's, and those of gawking early-risers fleeing to spread the word. Flutters of motion flickered, portraits (mostly of women in full skirts) running, perspective changing from one frame to the next, as the overt alarm system went off -- most of the students called it the painted grapevine, or something similar.  
  
Hiei noticed each and every person who saw them, though he doubted Ron did or cared. They were mostly Ravenclaws and Gryffindors: the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins lived in the lower levels of the school, and had no reason to be this far upstairs before classes. He paid particular attention to the Weasley girl, as she chased them from Gryffindor Tower, but she turned into the corridor to the library when they passed it.  
  
Through the atrium with the moving staircases, past the always-busy passage between the Ravenclaw dorms and the library: skip the third-floor corridor -- shut up for unknown reasons; all it held was dusty rooms and a battered trapdoor to more of the same -- skip the second-floor passage, which flooded at random intervals, take the first-floor one and back up the stairs... they skidded to a stop in front of the Infimary doors, shoved them open, and Hiei paused for an entire half-second in shock.  
  
Genkai sat cross-legged in a chair by a bed at the far end of the room, reading a small, worn book. That wasn't the shock. In that bed, Kurama lay in a pair of the blue-and-white-striped hospital pajamas, fast asleep.  
  
Hiei flickered to Kurama's bedside, leaving Ron to shout for Pomfrey and handle Harry alone. "What happened to him?" he asked, his voice flat with the effort to not growl.  
  
"I was wondering when you would show," Genkai replied, rather than answer the actual question. "There was an incident involving a large snake last night." That told him approximately nothing. "He killed it, but managed to get bitten in the shoulder."  
  
The shoulder, huh? Hiei leaned in, reaching to unbutton the top of Kurama's pajamas and check the bandages for himself -- and the low clatter of background noise snapped off. He jerked back, and the sound resumed.  
  
"What. Is. Over. This. Bed?" he growled. He'd lost an entire sense for a second, a full twenty percent of his ability to percieve dangers just gone...  
  
"A silencing charm. The venom shows signs of being a strong hyponotic," Genkai answered, unintimidated.  
  
Hypnotic. Induces obedience, opens the subject to alteration by suggestion. Hiei's mind quickly ran through multiple scenarios.  
  
 _I would've accused him of cutting it too close again... and led him to believe he always does so, with the result of dulling his battle reflexes. Somebody would call him stupid at some point -- me, Yuusuke, Kuwabara, Botan, one of the Slytherins -- and neatly excise his intelligence. He suppressed a shiver. Far too many of the students, if and when they discovered what they could do, would think of this as a game and plant stupid suggestions in Kurama's mind, like "quack like a duck every time you hear the word 'green'"._  
  
The future results of that would be horrific, even by Hiei's standards.  
  
The silencing charm was the best they could do, until the venom had run its course... but considering that Kurama was sleeping and unshielded, having the charm in place left the fox with only four senses to rely on to wake him if he was attacked: touch, taste, smell, and his ability to sense magic. In the intricate web of magic that was Hogwarts, only the first and third would be of any use to Kurama in sensing enemies, but a human's sense of smell was one of the worst in the Three Worlds. Only rock golems were worse, and that was because they didn't have any sense of smell at all.  
  
So, in the end, there was only one possible solution to the whole mess. _You gave me your goddamn trust, fox. I'm taking it._  
  
"I'm staying," he announced curtly.  
  
Genkai's eyebrow shot upwards. "Ohh...?" she drawled, eyes gleaming with a mix of interest and calculation. Hiei just drew himself up and waited expectantly, eyeing Genkai's chair. After a few moments, when it was clear that he wouldn't supply any more information, her interest dulled -- not forgotten, just set aside.  
  
"You're excused from Defense, and Binns won't notice if you skip History," Genkai decided, sliding from the seat. Hiei hooked a foot around the chair leg and tugged it to a more defensible angle, as she continued, "I can send up a House Elf with meals, but I can't get you excused from Potions or Divination. It's the Patils you have tonight, right?"  
  
Hiei didn't bother to nod.  
  
"He should be awake by then."  
  
"And?" Hiei prodded.  
  
Genkai shrugged. "Pomfrey and Snape have been looking up naga's hounds. Turns out the bites aren't fatal, but the effects last for a number of days. They haven't found any mention of an antidote yet."  
  
Days? "We can't afford to have him incapacitated for that long."  
  
"Don't you think I know that?!" Genkai hissed.  
  
Before Hiei could respond, the Infirmary doors burst open, blowing Hermione through. "Harry!" she cried, running to the bed where Ron stood over their friend. "Ginny just told me," she said to Ron, gasping for air -- she had probably run the whole way here, Hiei thought. Genkai's classroom exercises and the distances between classes were clearly not enough. The professor turned away from him, crossing the room as Hermione continued, "What happened? What's wrong? What--"  
  
"'Mione!" Ron stopped her mid-question. "We don't know."  
  
Hermione bent past him, skillfully staying out of Pomfrey's way -- the nurse set a bottle of potion aside, her body blocking a view of whatever she'd been doing with it. "It looks fresh," she commented. "He's too pale... and is he running a fever?"  
  
"No," Pomfrey answered.  
  
Genkai peered past Hermione. "That's not natural," she said. Hermione jumped, nearly falling onto Harry with a yelp. "Learn to pay attention, Granger. I wasn't even trying to sneak up on you. Now, then... Potter..." She squinted at Harry.  
  
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Looking," Genkai answered shortly. She caught Harry by the chin, tilting his face towards herself, getting an annoyed huff from Pomfrey. "Damn age..." she muttered.  
  
"Age?"  
  
"Granger, be quiet. Jaganshi, I need your eyes for a moment," Genkai ordered, beckoning without bothering to look at him (so she missed the deathglare Hiei leveled upon her). "Come take a look at Potter here."  
  
"I've already looked, hag," Hiei answered. Hermione gasped -- Pomfrey and Ron stared at him in shock.  
  
"Good," Genkai answered. "Then you can tell me if there's any Dark magic on him."  
  
Kurama would've smiled secretively and told her that he could, without actually doing so. Hiei clenched his fists. "No."  
  
Genkai sighed. "I apologize. Please tell me if there's any Dark magic on Potter."  
  
"I did," Hiei growled.  
  
"Well?" Hermione blurted. "Is there or not?!"  
  
Stupid humans can't listen. "There. Is. None."  
  
"That narrows things down a lot," Genkai commented. "And Miss Granger, I thought I told you to be quiet."  
  
"But--"  
  
"SILENCE!"  
  
Hermione's mouth snapped shut.  
  
Finally, she shuts up, Hiei thought. After all this, someone should teach her about the difference between intelligence and expertise, and when NOT to harrass the people trying to figure out what's going on!  
  
Making a mental note to take care of it personally -- so he could make sure it got done RIGHT -- he settled into his chair, and prepared himself for a long day keeping watch over Kurama.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Draco glanced around the Great Hall as he entered, one of the last to do so. It was a casual glance, perfectly normal, everybody-does-this sort of glance -- Draco had spent many months perfecting it.  
  
Minamino hadn't been in the dorm room when Draco woke. This wasn't unusual: most mornings the redhead was up early, for reasons unknown. Sometimes when Draco came to breakfast, Kurama had a new library book open next to his tea, or grass stains on his shoes, or the hem of his robes soaked through with dew or snow (depending on the weather outside), so Draco had a pretty good idea of where Kurama spent his time between 6 am and breakfast.  
  
His bed hadn't been slept in, though it had been crumpled enough to show that someone had sat on it for some time. That had been slightly unusual, since the once or twice when he hadn't slept in his bed, there had been no sign that he'd ever come back to the dorm at all. Even more strangely, his slippers had been missing.  
  
It was advantageous to notice these things. Because when he took in the Great Hall in his oh-so-perfectly-casual glance, he was already half-alert and watching for anything out-of-place. Hence, a single second's view kicked him into full, wakeful attentiveness, and supplied the detail that had triggered it.  
  
Potter always sits there, by the Weasel and the Mudblood -- he's not. Neither are Minamino and Jaganshi -- not that it's strange for Jaganshi to skip meals. And if Minamino's with Jaganshi... that explains the unslept-in bed. Though it doesn't explain the slippers...  
  
As he took his seat, Draco snuck a better look at the Weasel and Mudblood. Those are 'Potter's in the hospital' faces, he realized, with a jolt of glee.  
  
Draco's morning was looking up.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
 _If He-Who-Was-Somehow-Not-Harry had been merely impatient in the wee hours of the morning, by dawn, he was seething. And as the sun's rays slowly crossed the floor of the tiny hut where he paced restlessly, his temper shortened to match._  
  
 _It was mid-morning when his patience finally snapped._  
  
 _"They're. Not. COMING," he hissed, casting a fireball at the nearest wall. It left a charred circle. "He FAILED me!"_  
  
 _He spun, catching a skittering glint in the corner of the room: the silver paw of a rat. "WORMTAIL! You ASSURED me that the fools would ignore beasts! That they wouldn't check the luggage! That they WOULD NOT HAVE THE TRAITOR GUARDED AS WELL AS POTTER!"_  
  
 _The rat ran for a broken plank in the wall, squeaking pathetically._  
  
 _"CRUCIO!"_  
  
Harry snapped awake, Voldemort's name on his lips.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Through the muzzy fog of unawareness, Kurama slowly realized his eyes were closed. Some time after that, the thought drifted up that he could open them. It floated around for another unknown amount of time, before it shifted into maybe he should do so.  
  
With no reason not to, he did. Vaulted stones, winter sunshine, and the upper corner of a white curtain filled his view. How nice. A familiar face swam into view, frowning. _That's nice too..._  
  
Kurama's mouth moved, forming the name. ' _Hiei_...' But no sound flowed with his breath. _Ah well. Hello, Hiei._ The face moved away, but an instant later the soft surface Kurama was on bent, pushing his upper body partially upright. The view rotated, now the vaulted ceiling gone, the white curtain partition and a chair central to the image, with an empty hospital bed and a window visible on the other side of the room.  
  
Hiei came back into view, stepping from the side and slightly behind Kurama's bed to sit in the chair. He leveled a measuring look at Kurama, then pulled over a sheet of parchment and a quill, writing something down and holding the sheet up directly in Kurama's line of sight.  
  
 _You are under a silencing charm at the moment,_ it read in Japanese. _Do you know of medicine to counteract the venom of a naga's hound? Take this parchment and quill and write it down once if you do know of any. Shake your head once if you do not._  
  
Kurama could do that. He shook his head, once. The parchment was twitched out of his sight, and Hiei wrote on it again.  
  
 _Do you know the effects of the venom of a naga's hound? Nod your head once if you do, shake your head once if you do not._  
  
Memories flickered through Kurama's mind, of three decades in the sublevels of India -- rapists sentenced to impotency, killers to suicide, thieves to poverty-by-generosity. A rampaging demon brought low by a bite -- he'd made an excellent chef without his violent tendencies. A royal marriage, the prince and princess near-strangers and unattracted to each other: the venom had ensured a lasting, happy marriage. A farmer, his body sliced from ribs to the tip of his tail, yet alive and recovering with the processed venom flowing through his veins. Kurama nodded his head. Oh yes. He was familiar with the effects.  
  
 _You were bitten by one last night. Take the quill and write on this parchment if you wish to respond._  
  
Kurama took the quill, and Hiei relinquished the parchment. After thinking a moment, Kurama wrote: _You're so careful. It's sweet._  
  
Hiei bared his teeth in a snarl that Kurama couldn't hear, and snatched the parchment and quill back. He scribbled furiously for a moment, then held the paper up once more for Kurama to read.  
  
He'd changed the subject. _You weren't the snake's target last night. They think Snape was_. Another moment of writing. _The target had to be able to Apparate, and have some way of finding Voldemort without directions. I heard them say something about a Dark Mark._  
  
Kurama accepted the quill once more. _I don't know why they would want Snape, or what a Dark Mark is._  
  
Hiei shrugged. _Any opinions you would like to share?_  
  
Kurama had several. _I miss your real eyes._  
  
 _About. The. Mission._ The quill snapped under Hiei's fingers as he stabbed the period too hard, ink splattering everywhere. He and Kurama stared blankly at the broken feather, and the ink dripping from Hiei's hand.  
  
Kurama smiled, dipped a finger into a puddle of ink, and wrote messily on the cleanest corner of the parchment. _Oops_.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Fact: Potter AND Minamino had been in the hospital wing all day.  
  
Fact: Jaganshi had skipped all his classes to stay there.  
  
Fact: Neither had seemed ill at the returning feast, and there hadn't been a Quidditch game or an accident in class to land them there.  
  
Result: By dinnertime, the rumor mill was running wild in every House... except in Slytherin.  
  
Unlike the other Houses, the Slytherins had a system for rumor-mongering, with detailed -- though unwritten -- rules defining an almost business-like hierarchy. This year, Draco was qualified to begin refining the tales. He and Pansy, having mastered the art of speaking to each other without needing to actually pay attention, chatted and listened carefully to the younger Slytherins. Specifically, they listened to the second-years, whose job it was to loudly trade the stories they'd picked up from other Houses.  
  
"I heard it was a duel!" one of the boys said. (Draco automatically catalogued him and his future prospects in Slytherin House: 18th-century lateblood, one vault, moderate intelligence, moderate build: information gathering.)  
  
"No, no, that's ridiculous!" a girl responded. (16th-century midblood, one vault, quarter-full, high intelligence, mid-low discretion -- Draco frowned; the children weren't supposed to add their own opinions to the information -- pretty: production and dispersal if she learned a bit more discretion, information disperal only if she didn't.) "They'd have lost SO many points if that was it!"  
  
"I heard they snuck into the Forbidden Forest." A chorus of awed 'ooooooh's followed the girl's (4th-generation lateblood, three vaults, low intelligence, obedient: dispersal and gathering) announcement.  
  
Interesting idea... somebody would have to check on Minamino, to see if his wound supported that story.  
  
"I bet it was a vampire!"  
  
"In ENGLAND? Don't be silly, it had to be a blood-sucking bugbear. They've attacked that stupid half-giant before." (Pansy's sister: 14th-century pureblood, seven vaults, over-exciteable: production or refining.)  
  
That's an excellent point about the bugbear, and nicely supported for a twelve-year-old's argument. She might be a good candidate to promote to refining early... perhaps in her 4th year, Draco thought, as more awed 'oooooh's filled the air.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hiei set his fork on his empty plate, and finished off his pumpkin juice (a beverage he wasn't quite sure if he was getting used to, or sick of). It was nice to have a civilized, hot meal without hundreds of human brats shoving and babbling all around him... though it would've been nicer without Kurama incapacitated.  
  
A shadow fell over him. "Jaganshi."  
  
"Snape." Figures -- most of the time he goes billowing and swooping about, making dramatic Entrances... except that it would be more melodramatic to be sneaky and silent now, so he is!  
  
The wizard's expression darkened. "Don't take that insolent tone with me, Jaganshi. Unless you want more detentions than the ones you already have for skipping class."  
  
"Shouldn't you be looking for an antidote?" Hiei asked. Who cared about detention? Was Snape that petty, that he would climb all the way to the Infimary just to tell Hiei he had detention? Surely he had other information.  
  
"There isn't one," Snape replied flatly.  
  
Unacceptable. "So make one," Hiei snapped.  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "You want me to test experimental antidotes on Minamino?" he asked, mockingly.  
  
Well, when you put it that way... "Hell no."  
  
"Five points for language, Jaganshi."  
  
"Iya da, then," Hiei said. Same meaning, different language. "Or grd-yn." He could hear Snape's teeth grinding. "Was there anything else?" he asked, deliberately baiting Snape.  
  
The man hissed. "No." He spun on his heel and stormed off to Pomfrey's office.  
  
Pathetic.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The Patil twins came in shortly after that.  
  
"Sit," Hiei ordered simply, gesturing towards two chairs he'd set at the foot of Kurama's bed. They did so, and Hiei leaned back in his usual posture, waiting.  
  
The Patils' lessons always went the same way. The twins would enter, he would have them sit, he would wait a random length of time, and then order them to drop into the meditative state required to perform. The wait period was vital -- they had to learn how to drop into that state instantly, consciously.  
  
This time, though, was different. Whereas the girls usually sat quietly, unnerved by him (though they'd been relaxing slowly over the past three months), this time... Parvati was staring at him.  
  
No. The phrase was more accurately 'gazing worshipfully'. He'd seen that expression and posture in each of their Divination classes, directed towards Trelawney. And were those tears in her eyes?  
  
"What?" Hiei growled.  
  
"Lavender wanted to be here too," Parvati began. Padma rolled her eyes. "To think you carried such a burden all through the holidays--!" What the hell is she talking about?, Hiei wondered. "You can tell us, or Professor Trelawney, anytime," she added earnestly. "We understand the burden of the Inner Eye. We'll help you... the trauma of foreseeing such horrible things happening to a friend, and the guilt of watching it come to pass--!" She shook her head, tears trickling from her eyes.  
  
She has got to be fucking kidding me. "Where. Did. You. Hear. That?"  
  
Before Parvati could, Padma answered. "When you didn't show up in Divination today, Ron Weasley fed the professor a line--"  
  
"Padma!"  
  
"--about you having a Holiday Vision Of Your Best Friend's Impending Doom." Her voice only needed to drop a couple of octaves to suit a B-movie voiceover, except for a note of stifled laughter behind the dramatic tones. "He added that you were Immersed in Guilt and Keeping Vigil At His Side--"  
  
"PADMA! HOW COULD YOU--?!"  
  
"--and the professor swallowed it hook, line, and sinker."  
  
Parvati let out a strangled squawk.  
  
"Ready state," Hiei ordered. The twins fell automatically into silent mediation.  
  
Holiday Visions? Impending Doom? Immersed in Guilt?  
  
... it was exactly the sort of thing that the loony professor would eat up with a spoon. Ron had probably just assured Hiei perfect grades for the term. But it was bloody embarrassing!  
  
Note to self: do not let Kurama hear about this.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The next morning began all too early, when Yukina ran into the Hospital Wing, brimming with joy.  
  
"Oniisan! Oniisan! I got permission to work a healing on Kurama!"  
  
Hiei, half-awake, thunked his head against the blankets. Why hadn't they thought of that before?  
  
"Oniisan? Are you ill, too?"  
  
"No, Yukina," Hiei muttered, raising his head. "I'm just fine."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Tuesday afternoon, and tests of Kurama's blood showed a low enough level of venom that Madam Pomfrey took down the silencing charm. Just in case, though, Hiei confiscated his translation earring.  
  
It was fortunate that he'd done so. Late during the second afternoon class period -- which Slytherin had free -- Draco and Pansy came to visit.  
  
"Konnichi wa!" Kurama said cheerfully, when they came past the curtain.  
  
The two of them blinked. "Hello, Minamino," Pansy answered, before glancing at Hiei blankly. "You're still here."  
  
So sorry to disappoint, Hiei thought sarcastically. He deliberately lounged back in the chair, telegraphing that he didn't consider them much of a threat.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Draco sneered.  
  
"Genkai assigned me to babysit," he responded flatly.  
  
"Is it that bad?" Pansy asked, raising her hand and putting on a worried expression. It didn't fool Hiei a bit.  
  
"It's better. She took his charm, though, just in case, so I'm also the translator." He watched their faces fall in dismay. Came to pump him for information, did you? Too bad. "He says hello."  
  
"We guessed," Draco drawled.  
  
"Well, then," Pansy said, rallying gracefully... for a human. "We have a care basket from Slytherin House--" Hiei was going to check that for charms and potions, no matter how dumb it would be to put such things into one, "--and we really wanted to talk to Kurama in private. Does he know much English without the charm?"  
  
"No," Hiei said flatly. Kurama had the standard years of English in his middle and high schools, before coming here, but he was (fortunately) terrible with the pronunciation (except of key words like "Rose Whip"). If Hiei just gave them the impression that he couldn't read and write it either, they couldn't try to have their 'private' conversation.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"It's shameful how they allow dangerous animals on the school grounds," Draco said. "I bet it was one of Hagrid's beasts. His hippogriff attacked me my third year, you know. My father tried to have him put down, but somehow he escaped."  
  
"I have no idea what happened," Hiei lied easily. "Kurama says he didn't recognize it."  
  
Pansy jumped in. "I can't imagine how it could possibly have happened. It must have been horrible, though -- simply being attacked out of the blue like that...!"  
  
Subtle, they were not. Kurama would be delighted, if he understood what they were saying. He'd bait them, throwing out clues and lies and driving us all nuts. "He hasn't said," Hiei replied -- truthfully, for a change.  
  
"Haven't you asked?" Pansy asked guilelessly.  
  
"No."  
  
Draco opened his mouth, a faint smirk on his lips -- it made Hiei more wary; what the hell was he going to ask? -- when the curtain shifted again. The four of them glanced up.  
  
"Yukina-san!" Kurama said.  
  
"Hello, Kurama," Yukina said. She nodded a greeting to Draco and Pansy, before turning to smile at Hiei. "It's time for another round, oniisan."  
  
"Another round of what?" Draco asked. (Good, she's distracted him from whatever loaded question he had, Hiei thought.)  
  
"Healing!" Yukina answered, as if it was obvious. Then she paused sheepishly. "Oh, but you haven't seen me do that, have you, Draco?" Both Slytherins shook their heads. "It's not very interesting, I'm afraid, but it's very useful to watch. Most people can figure out how to heal themselves with their core magic, no matter what their skills are." She sat down by the bed and unbuttoned Kurama's pajama top, pushing it from his shoulder and untying the bandages.  
  
Kurama blinked, gaze flicking from her hands on the gauze, to Hiei, and back again. Hiei shrugged. It wasn't as if Draco and his dormmates wouldn't see the damage eventually, anyway. Apparently satisfied to follow Hiei's opinion, Kurama pulled his hair helpfully out of the way.  
  
Yukina pulled the last bandage free, ignoring Draco and Pansy's shifting to get a good look, and held her hand a centimeter above the punctured, yellow-green bruise of the wound. Her hand started to glow faintly blue.  
  
"You know, Koorime, I don't think we've actually met, have we?" Pansy asked.  
  
Yukina smiled. "No, we haven't. Our Houses don't have any classes together."  
  
"Simply a shame," Pansy murmured. "I'm Pansy Parkinson, of the Carlisle Parkinsons, 14th-century pure."  
  
"Yukina Koorime, of the Koorime," Yukina replied. "What's the rest of that mean?"  
  
"My family," Pansy explained proudly, "can trace their wizarding roots all the way back to the 14th century."  
  
"Ohhh," Yukina breathed.  
  
"What about yours?"  
  
Yukina thought for a moment. "I don't know how it translates..." She glanced at Hiei. "Asuka 41?" Hiei shrugged, and Yukina turned to Kurama. "Kurama-san, Asuka no yojuuichi?"  
  
Kurama blinked lazily up at her. "Gohyakukyuujuusan no Ei Di."  
  
"Arigatou gozaimasu, Kurama-san." Yukina smiled at Pansy and Draco. "Kurama says it translates to 593 AD in your calendar." The Slytherins paled, as Yukina obliviously continued, "The oral records, of course, go back considerably further, to Yuki'onna when we still lived in the higher mountains of Honshu."  
  
Hiei suppressed a smirk. As far as he knew, the oldest British wizarding families could only trace their roots to the 1100's or so. Their written history piddled out in their Dark Ages, vanishing into the depths of Europe. With a single, cheerful comment, Yukina had just slapped the class-conscious purebloods with a status symbol they couldn't ignore.  
  
"And... Kurama...?" Draco asked.  
  
"Oh, his written records would be the same, or similar," Yukina replied. "That's when we imported writing from China. Oral records, though..."  
  
"Moriko," Hiei supplied. Yukina wouldn't know the name of Kurama's original mother. "In the mid-Yayoi," he added. She'd been about a thousand years old when she'd had Kurama, if he recalled correctly... so Kurama's lineage stretched two thousand years, a millenium each for himself and his birth mother.  
  
"Shikoku ni Moriko-ohaha no niwa ga arimasu..." Kurama murmured.  
  
Yukina tilted her head, bringing her free hand to her mouth. "Ohh..."  
  
"What did he say?" Pansy asked.  
  
"That his ancestor's garden still exists, in Shikoku."  
  
Draco visibly suppressed a sneer, nearly managing to fake honest curiosity. "A garden? What's so important about a garden?"  
  
"Nothing," Hiei snapped, "if you only care about the written date."  
  
"A garden that age would be sacred," Yukina murmured, pulling her hand away from Kurama's wound. The ugly bruising was gone, only a faint pucker of scar tissue marking the spot. "I'll finish this tomorrow," Yukina told Hiei. "The venom's almost gone, but I would recommend another night here. He's still too vulnerable to suggestion."  
  
Dammit, Yukina! "Tell the nurse," Hiei said, carefully stone-faced.  
  
"We'll just be going, then," Pansy said oh-so-smoothly. "We wouldn't want to wear out our welcome. Come, Draco dear."  
  
They stood, smiling falsely, their eyes bright with glee, and hurried out.  
  
"I'll start looking up venoms in the library," Hiei heard Draco say as the doors swung closed. "You see what the rumor mill can come up with..."  
  
Hiei resisted the urge to put his face in his hands. This was exactly what they didn't want happening.  
  
Dammit, Yukina...  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Moonlight slanted silver across the center of the Hospital Wing, leaving deep, shadowed nooks along the wall with Kurama's bed. Hiei, jammed into a carved niche, slept deeply, his arms crossed and his feet up on the chair he'd used through the day. He didn't snore, nor did he so much as twitch, even when a section of stone wall in the corner of the room swung open on silent, magical hinges.  
  
Two figures slipped from the secret passage, moving in perfect counterpoint to each other as they crept across the room. One peered at Hiei, and gestured to the other -- a signal with overtones of 'all clear, it's safe' to it. The other padded to the side of Kurama's bed, mere feet away from the sleeping Jaganshi. The first glanced away--  
  
And Hiei's hands snapped out, catching the two of them by the ears.  
  
"OW!" they yelped.  
  
Kurama jolted awake, a hand going instinctively towards his hair. "Hiei? Nani sore...?"  
  
Hiei pulled the pair into the light -- not that either of them needed it, but best to keep up the pretense before the humans. "Fred and George Weasley," he announced needlessly. "I see word spreads quickly around here."  
  
"You were asleep!" Fred yelped.  
  
Hiei snorted. "I was," he agreed readily. No need to tell them he slept on a hair-trigger, that he'd been wide awake since the secret door had opened. "You're lucky I didn't stay asleep. What are you doing?"  
  
A split second of silence, as the twins exchanged a glance and came to an agreement -- Hiei would guess that it ran something along the lines of 'bloody stupid to deny now'. "Just a little fun," Fred said.  
  
"One command."  
  
"A once-only time limit and everything."  
  
"Wouldn't have hurt him a bit!"  
  
Hiei glared. "What. Were. You. Going. To. Do?"  
  
"Well..."  
  
"You see..."  
  
"It's like this..."  
  
They spoke in unison. "Have you ever heard of the teapot dance?"  
  
The what? "No." Before they could explain, Hiei added, "And I don't want to. You aren't making him do it."  
  
"Aw...!" they chorused. The doubled whine cut off into yelps again as Hiei dragged them back to the secret door by their ears, ignoring Kurama when he stood and curiously followed.  
  
"No."  
  
"But--!"  
  
Hiei shoved them into the passage. "You want to be suicidal, go stand under the Whomping Willow. Leave Kurama alone."  
  
They blinked down at him. "Huh?"  
  
Humans! Did he have to spell everything out for them? "Kurama. Gets. Even." He slammed the door shut in their faces.  
  
A gentle hand fell on his shoulder. "Hiei?" Kurama asked.  
  
"Nan demo nai," Hiei replied. It was nothing. He'd been expecting attempts at pranks. At least the Weasleys had some sense about it, and he'd caught them anyways.  
  
Kurama patted his shoulder again. "Arigatou."  
  
Hiei didn't bother to say 'you're welcome'.  
  



	34. Relative Peace

  
  
  
  
The remainder of January passed in relative peace. Of course, at Hogwarts, the phrase was somewhat misleading...  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama was released from the Infirmary during breakfast Wednesday morning, leaving Hiei only ten minutes to change into school robes, grab his books, and climb the many flights of stairs to face...  
  
Divination.  
  
He managed to make it with seconds to spare, by traveling over the rooftops and sneaking in through a window behind the curtain in the far back. Unfortunately, as close as he cut it, and as well as he'd managed to enter without being noticed, it wasn't quite enough.  
  
"Hiei!" Lavender gasped.  
  
Parvati joined in, wringing her hands. "Oh, Hiei!"  
  
Oh gods, Hiei thought, as the two girls descended upon him.  
  
"Are you all right?" Lavender asked. "Was he hurt very terribly?"  
  
"Did you see what did it?" Parvati chimed in. "I heard Minamino didn't, it happened so fast..."  
  
"How did you have your vision? Was it the tarot, perhaps? Or maybe the mirrors, like we worked on last term?"  
  
Hiei growled. "None of your business," he snapped, flicking a glare at Ron. This is all your fault, he thought viciously at him (careful not to actually let his Jagan amplify it to actual telepathy). Harry and Ron offered him apologetic looks, before Harry ducked his head to stare at the table in visible guilt.  
  
Professor Trelawney breezed in, caught sight of the girls hovering over Hiei, and promptly swooped over to join them. "Jaganshi..." she murmured, voice wavering. "My poor child..."  
  
I am not your poor anything, Hiei thought.  
  
"You must tell us, child..." She took a breath, and flung her arm out. "Tell us of your vision!" Hiei nearly choked, and she spun back to him. "You must share your Gift... an example for the young seekers of knowledge who are your classmates!"  
  
Ron and Kuwabara put hands over their mouths to stifle their laughter, as Trelawney leaned too close to Hiei again, her oversized glasses nearly touching his nose. "I have Seen the strength of your Inner Eye--" You have no idea, you old bat. "--since the instant you entered this room. Your dragon, your shadows, child... they are the dangers of strong Sight. I myself have battled such spirits, creatures both malevolent and otherwise, who are drawn to strong Seers."  
  
Hiei narrowed his eyes. That was just a little too accurate for the dingbat.  
  
"But that is neither here nor there," Trelawney added, dropping the subject. "We must know how you recieved this vision, both as an example for your classmates, and to discover what scrying techniques are compatible with your shadows."  
  
Compatible, was it? She just wanted a free show. "Dozed off in front of the fire," he snapped. "Thought it was a past-vision. Don't want to talk about it."  
  
"But--!"  
  
"I. Don't. Want. To. Talk. About. It," Hiei growled. Trelawney and the girls drew back; Kuwabara paled slightly.  
  
"Don't push him," Kuwabara said hastily. "It's... it's really bad when... we can't break Kurama of the 'dramatic battle' thing, see, and he cuts things too close... it really ticks Hiei off when he's in the hospital--" Hiei glared at him. "--erk. Um... I'll shut up now."  
  
"That's the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say."  
  
Trelawney wisely fluttered off to her table, to begin class. What do you know, she has some survival instinct buried under all that mystic bullshit.  
  
Lavender and Parvati hovered for only a moment more before taking seats... by summoning their bookbags from their original table, and sitting at the table next to Hiei's.  
  
"You saw in the fire?" Lavender whispered.  
  
Hiei ignored them.  
  
"Was it the actual attack," Parvati pressed, "or did you just see Minamino in a hospital bed?"  
  
Hiei ignored them more pointedly.  
  
"We haven't done fire visions yet." Lavender again. "How did you do it?"  
  
They kept the questions coming at him for the rest of class. In revenge, Hiei predicted that the whole class would die a messy death -- especially Lavender, Parvati, Ron, and Trelawney -- when a freak firestorm engulfed the tower classroom. It made him feel only slightly better.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
After lunch on Friday -- where, twice, Harry had caught himself eating to the rhythm of the morning's sword basics warmup -- Hiei all but dragged him back to the practice room with its strange reed mats.  
  
"C'mon, it's Friday," Harry whined. "I was gonna do... stuff." What, exactly, he wasn't sure, but he would've come up with something.  
  
"Do you want to know how to use your Christmas present or not?" Hiei asked sharply.  
  
 _My Christmas... the knife? Cool! We're going to... erm... wait_... Did Hiei mean use it as a weapon, or just in general? Because Harry was pretty good at using knives in general. He'd done cooking and eating and Potions for years. Surely that covered general use, so...  
  
"You're teaching me to fight with it?" Harry asked, his voice carefully neutral.  
  
Hiei pushed the door open, gesturing Harry through. "As a last resort. The rest of this is going to be breaking you of bad habits, and teaching you details you haven't picked up yet." He paused. "I see the mess you make when you try to tie the sheath on, for example. We'll fix that."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Do you have it on you?" Hiei asked, as he opened a cabinet where -- Harry knew -- he kept paper and a few supplies for the upkeep of the practice weapons.  
  
"Er... no."  
  
"Bring the sheath next time." He opened a drawer Harry had never seen him touch before, and pulled out a practice weapon and sheath, both of which matched Harry's presents exactly. He offered the weapon to Harry, hilt-first. "But not the knife," he added, as Harry took the short wooden blade. "I don't want you carrying that thing until I'm damn sure you won't drop it into your foot."  
  
"Don't you mean 'onto'?"  
  
Hiei shot him a glare. "I mean 'into', as in blade-first." Eep. "Speaking of which, if you ever hand a weapon to somebody, offer it hilt-first. You point a blade at somebody, you better be planning to use it."  
  
Harry blinked. _So why...?_  
  
"I haven't bothered to tell the weapons class," Hiei said, (correctly) interpreting Harry's expression, "because it's a moot point. A Knight-class weapon can't be used by someone else -- it can't actually leave the creator's hand."  
  
"Oh." That was odd... but it made sense. Except, what was 'Knight-class'?  
  
Hiei shut the door of the cabinet, locking it, and pivoted to face Harry, tucking the sheath under his right arm. With his left, he took Harry's hand and reversed his grip on the hilt, twisting it to an overhand grip. "Always use an underhand grip. See how the only way the blade can go is towards you--" he pushed upwards on Harry's arm, until the wooden blade was pointed down at Hiei, "--unless you're standing like this?"  
  
Harry nodded. "It's really clumsy," he mumbled.  
  
"It's not only awkward, it leaves you wide open to attack. I could gut you right now if I had a knife--" Harry tensed and took a step back, only to find that Hiei's grip on his wrist was deceptively strong. He couldn't actually get very far out of the position. "--or break a few ribs, or punch the wind out of you... or even tickle you."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. "You wouldn't--!"  
  
Hiei smirked, letting Harry go. He stumbled a couple of steps away from the Japanese boy, his arm automatically falling to block his ribcage.  
  
"I wouldn't," Hiei admitted, still smirking. "You'd be surprised what sort of dirty tactics get used in real fights, though. I've seen people knocked on their asses after their opponents groped them."  
  
 _Did what?_  
  
"Underhand grip," Hiei ordered, gesturing at the wooden knife still in Harry's hand. Harry automatically flipped it around. "The hilt's flattened a bit. This makes you naturally hold the blade correctly, in the most comfortable grip." Harry glanced down. "See how the edge of the blade faces the same direction as that knuckle? This is your fighting grip. Your knuckle always points in the direction that you want to slash across, if you do.  
  
"Turn your hand so the knuckle points up. Bring your index finger to lie along the blunt edge of the blade. This is for more delicate work, like chopping Potions ingredients -- I do not want to catch you using your knife in Potions class, though. The fewer people who know you're carrying a knife, the better," he added, in an aside. "And speaking of Potions, curl the fingers of your other hand in when you're holding something to slice up. Use that to guide the knife, so you don't cut yourself."  
  
Harry had never heard that. All the times he'd cut himself cooking for the Dursleys, or in Potions class, and no one had ever mentioned it--? "Why doesn't Snape tell us these things?" he muttered, curling his free hand and moving the blade along the center joint of his fingers. Hiei was right, he couldn't possibly cut himself this way unless he let go or twisted the knife.  
  
"Because Snape is a bastard," Hiei answered dryly. He pulled up his right sleeve, revealing the mysterious bandages he always wore, and set the sheath along the underside of his arm. "I'll show you how to tie this right, and then we'll move on to the safety catch, drawing the blade, and proper maintenance."  
  
"Thought this stuff was supposed to be fun..." Harry grumbled under his breath.  
  
"You'll be delighted the first time it saves your life," Hiei shot back.  
  
Harry couldn't resist. "Is that one of your famous predictions?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Maybe it's a command for him to paint the common room in Gryffindork colors, late some night."  
  
"That's really dumb."  
  
" _They're_ really dumb."  
  
"Well..."  
  
Just as he had for the past few days, Kurama ignored the whispers in the background as he did his homework. The Slytherin common room may have been designed to muffle conversation, but even combined with the Slytherins' skills at keeping private conversations unheard... they couldn't quite compensate for Kurama's hearing.  
  
At least they'd quit speculating that he'd been ordered to murder them all in their beds, and other such nonsense. The rumor mill had firmly latched onto the idea that Kurama had tried to sneak into the Forbidden Forest, and Harry's trip to the Infirmary the next morning was coincidence. It would take extensive evidence to add another idea at this point -- the topic had two, maybe three days left before it would be worn out.  
  
A hand clapped down on top of Kurama's head, in a gesture that could have been mistaken for friendly. "You're helping Jaganshi catch up on his homework, right?" Blaise Zabini asked.  
  
Not again...  
  
"The poor boy spent so much time faithfully--" Blaise almost coughed, here, and Kurama could hear the effort he made to put lewd hints in the tone, "--watching over you. I hope you're... grateful."  
  
Blaise was the last holdout for the wild rumors. In his (Slytherin-jaded, yet all-too-human) point of view, Hiei's behavior had crossed the line into degenerate (again, in his opinion) sexual interest. He kept fishing for any reaction that he could use as evidence to support his theory, since he didn't have enough to make the rumor mill latch onto it yet.  
  
"Get your hand out of my hair, please, Blaise," Kurama said, tapping the excess ink from his quill. The boy had no idea just how close his idea was to the truth... or how completely, utterly off the mark he was.  
  
"Or what?" Blaise asked.  
  
Kurama smiled unpleasantly at him. "I'll just let you... speculate on that."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
A couple of Wednesdays passed, and Genkai summoned Harry to her office shortly before Astronomy. Harry looked around curiously as he entered -- it had changed considerably since September.  
  
Genkai had removed the large desk and chair, as well as most of the original furniture in the room, and stretched the windows down. A thick rug, lacking the usual patterns of wizard rugs, lay in the center of the room. Three floor pillows lay in a neat row before a large, low table on the rug. The usual parchment-quill-inkpot set lay on the table, as did a lamp, a tea service -- iron kettle and handleless cups made of homely glazed-clay -- and a box, which sat in the center before Genkai herself.  
  
"Sit," Genkai ordered, expressionless.  
  
Harry sat on the center floor pillow, shaking his head when she offered him tea. That's good. That's gotta be good -- if I were in trouble, she'd be bawling me out already. But still...  
  
Her eyes gleamed for a split second, and she pushed the box towards him. "Let's see if this works, hm?"  
  
Harry eyed the mysterious box. It was plain wood, perhaps the size to hold a large apple, and had a two-sided lid with a lock dead center. The key lay on top. Defense professor + box with unknown contents + me = very, very suspiscious. "What's in it?" he asked, not touching the box.  
  
"Very good, Potter. You have a shred of sense," Genkai answered, smirking. She reached out and tapped the box. "Back in September, I told you I would try to get you a snake to practice your Parseltongue on. This is the next best thing."  
  
The next best...? Harry reached for the key and unlocked the box, flipping the lid open... and yelped, scrambling backwards off his pillow.  
  
The box held Nagini's head, stuffed and mounted within.  
  
Standing, Genkai leaned forward over her desk. "You should see your face, Potter," she said, amused. "Now get up here and tell me if this thing works. If it does, it's yours. If it doesn't..." she grinned wickedly, "... I'll have something to hang on my wall and scare the students with."  
  
Harry picked himself up off the rug, resettling himself on the cushion and peering slowly back into the box. Nagini had been rather well-mounted; nice polished wood, clear eyes -- she would look alive if she had the rest of her body attached. Her first two fangs -- the large, venomous ones -- had been removed. He would bet the glands had gone along with the teeth, and were now in Snape's lab. She couldn't possibly be dangerous now.  
  
But she was still Voldemort's snake. She'd been there with him. She'd laughed and made comments and demanded to eat people. So... Please don't work, please don't work, please...  
  
{"Hello?"} he asked. The familiar hissing of his parseltongue overlaid the word.  
  
Nagini stirred, tongue flickering. {"Hello."}  
  
Damn.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
February in the Scottish highlands started wet, bleak, and cold... much as it did in northern Japan, only worse. Crammed up against the cold windows of Gryffindor Tower on Friday afternoon, Hiei stared out at the colorless land. White snow, nearly slush -- the temperature was exactly at freezing, and would only drop as the day passed into night -- wet-black trees, light gray stone, dark gray sky.  
  
Behind him in the common room, the fire and tapestries burned in reds and golds, the wood and students alike a riot of browns, the occasional blue or green eye winking here and there. On his lap, a book -- a prop, really, he was only making a pretense of studying -- crinkled in yellowy light browns in the corner of his vision.  
  
And all of that bright color and life was reflected dimly in the window, as was Hiei himself. Wouldn't everybody laugh if they knew I stared out windows to participate? Philosophical ridiculousness...  
  
Kuwabara jumped the last few steps of the staircase up to the boys' dorms, his wizard's robe swirling about his sneakers. "Don't anybody go up there," he threatened the room at large, "unless you're real quiet. Neville's sleeping."  
  
This prompted a rather distracted murmur of agreement to ripple around the room. Satisfied, Kuwabara leaned over to speak to Yuusuke. Yuusuke tilted his head, eyes narrowing -- not in anger... a lack of surprise, more like -- and answered. Kuwabara shook his head, Yuusuke slapped his comic book closed, and the two stalked over to Hiei.  
  
"Yo, Hiei," Yuusuke said. Hiei didn't bother to respond, but his eyes flicked to meet Yuusuke's in the window reflection. "You know if Kurama's got any soybeans?"  
  
Hiei blinked. Soybeans...? "Ask him yourself."  
  
"Haven't seen him all day," Yuusuke answered. "Does he have them? We need soybeans for Setsubun."  
  
My valiant allies. Team Urameshi, winners of the Ankoku Buujuutsukai. Hiei resisted the urge to put his face in his hands. And they want to throw soybeans around tomorrow like three-year-olds. "How should I know? Go bug Genkai or the House Elves."  
  
They blinked, as if that hadn't even occured to them. "Yanno, that's not a half-bad idea," Kuwabara said slowly. Hiei shot him a glare.  
  
"Thanks, man!" Yuusuke shouted, as they turned and ran out.  
  
Hiei grunted -- a 'you're welcome', a scoff, or something else, he wasn't quite sure -- and returned to his contemplation of the land, the reflections, and the window.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry, as a prefect, was the last one to go up to bed at night, though he sometimes fudged on his duties when Hermione was on the warpath, in order to stay out of her immediate way.  
  
Tonight wasn't one of those nights. So he helped herd the little kids to bed, bank the fire, roust the nuzzling couples from dark niches, roust others (like Hiei) from their lonely dark niches, and so forth. And when he went up to bed, he kicked off his shoes and dug his pjs out from under his pillow, and started to change with a sigh of relief.  
  
Ugh. It's a lie-in tomorrow for me. TMIS -- thank Merlin it's Saturday.  
  
He glanced over, and suddenly realized that Neville -- the only other boy not in bed yet -- wasn't changing into sleepwear, but rather, into old robes. A box (that seed kit of his?) lay on his bed, though he usually didn't keep it out at all.  
  
"Neville," Harry groaned tiredly, "where are you going?"  
  
The other boy glanced up. "I've got a special tutoring session tonight," he explained.  
  
Riiiiiight. "At this hour?" Harry asked.  
  
A nervous shrug, as Neville started patting at his pockets. "I've got a slip somewhere. Signed by the professors and everything... oh." He opened his box and pulled out a piece of parchment. "Here."  
  
Harry didn't look at the sheet. "I believe you," he said hastily. "Just seemed weird, that's all."  
  
"I know, but... well. Some plants can only be harvested in the middle of the night and stuff. Maybe we're doing that."  
  
"You don't know?"  
  
Neville shook his head, picking up his box. "Kurama's being all mysterious-Slytherin again," he said ruefully. "And he'll probably get worse if I'm late. So I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"  
  
"Um, okay..." But Neville hadn't waited for Harry's answer. Harry took a single step in the direction he'd gone, then paused.  
  
I can either believe him, as I said I did, or I can follow him like he's one of the firsts I just sent to bed. I know Neville -- he wouldn't go breaking rules without a bloody good reason. Like running after Harry himself when HARRY had been breaking rules.  
  
He's not lying. I'm not following. I am going to BED.  
  
Harry fell into his bed, and was out like a light.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, Kurama waited, leaning against the wall. A large basket hung in the crook of one arm; a lantern dangled from his other hand. The portrait swung open, and he looked up.  
  
"Ready?" he asked Neville.  
  
"Yup," he answered, glancing Kurama over. His brow furrowed. "You're going to freeze."  
  
Kurama smiled as they headed downstairs. He wore loose cotton work clothes, similar to the underclothing for his battle tunics, while Neville had on heavy wool wizard's robes (an inch too short in the arm and at the hem) and a thick winter cloak. "You're going to roast, actually," he responded. "We're working hard tonight. You'll get hot, no matter the temperature."  
  
Neville didn't argue the point, but he didn't look convinced. "Just what are we doing, anyway?" he asked eventually, as they reached the ground floor.  
  
"You'll see," Kurama said. He paused, pushing open the door to the outside. "And you'll probably be cursing my name within the hour. Feel free."  
  
"What? Why--?"  
  
"Ah! Hagrid!" Kurama waved, not answering Neville. They crossed the snowy lawn to the groundskeeper, a hulking, dark shape against the bright snow and almost-full moon. He stood leaning on a shovel, between a wheelbarrow piled with garden tools, and a large, well-cleared patch of ground. "What are you... did you do all this?" Kurama asked, gesturing at the bare spot.  
  
"That I did," Hagrid answered. "Least I could do."  
  
Kurama bowed deeply. "Thank you, Hagrid. This helps a lot."  
  
"Don't yeh be doin' that," Hagrid answered quickly. "I'd'a done the rest if yeh'd just let me... yeh sure yeh don't want any help?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Hagrid. I'd ask if there was any possible way that I could let you--" which there was not, and Kurama wasn't entirely sure that letting someone else clear most of the snow was proper. Just this once, just this little bit, and only because he didn't quite touch the ground: he left a few scrapings' worth over the grass, his instincts churned out sullenly. "-- I would. But we need to do the rest ourselves."  
  
Hagrid's face fell, his eyes crinkling sadly, resolutely, behind his thick beard.  
  
"... if you really want, though... I mean, if you don't mind being up all night..." Kurama began, guessing the source of Hagrid's discomfort, "it could be okay for someone to stand watch. Since we're just students..." Hagrid's eyes lit up in relief. Kurama figured he'd guessed right; that the professor hadn't wanted to leave two of his kids unprotected outside all night.  
  
"What are we doing?" Neville asked again.  
  
Kurama smiled, and set his basket on the far side of the wheelbarrow. "We," he said, taking a spade from the 'barrow, "are clearing ground, to start with. Like a garden plot, one for each of us."  
  
Neville blinked, gaze pinned to the small shovel. "What's the spell?"  
  
"No spells," Kurama answered. "We want as little magic as possible in this -- I'd take you off school grounds if I could, but we only have all night to do this in."  
  
"No magic?"  
  
"No magic," Kurama confirmed, picking up and placing a second spade into Neville's hands.  
  
The boy stared at it as if it was a Weasley twins' joke product. "But... but the ground's frozen!"  
  
Kurama didn't let his sigh get through. "I know." It is every year, and I really, really hate that part. My poor... no, our poor hands. Even with gloves... well. I hope Pomfrey has a potion for blisters. He stepped out into the cleared area and pulled a few stakes from his pocket. Crouching, he used the handle of his spade to tap them into the ground, outlining a relatively small square through a quarter of the space. "Here. This is your part; use the spade to slice down two or three inches, and then undercut to leave the grass intact."  
  
Neville's eyes flicked from the shovel to the area Kurama had marked, and back, then to Kurama's uncompromising face. With a sigh, and a flicker of eyes towards Gryffindor Tower -- probably wishing he was safely, warmly asleep in his bed -- he knelt and began slicing. Kurama turned away and began doing the same to the remaining three quarters of the cleared ground, as Hagrid stood watch over them.  
  
They worked in silence as the moon crept higher in the sky, while Hagrid shifted, lumbered around the perimeter, tugged at his beard, and generally fidgeted to suppress his curiosity. Frozen dirt ground into the knees and shins of Kurama's trousers, frost and dribbles of snow melting into the fabric; he slowly worked up a light sweat despite the cold, and it and the icy water chilled his skin, dulling sensation.  
  
I hate this part I hate this part Ihatethispart... I want a bath. A long, hot bath, with a cool washcloth over my forehead so I can stay in longer. Tangerines in the water. Tea. Sake. He jabbed his spade into the cold ground, and a bit of his skin moved differently than the rest. And blister potion. There starts the first one...  
  
Neville's bound to be in worse shape than me, though. His robe is warmer, so he'd sweat more, and he's not used to anything harder on the hands than repotting. And he doesn't know why we're doing this...  
  
Sure enough, as if on cue, Neville muttered under his breath, sitting back on his heels and flexing his hands.  
  
"My parents were quite happily married when I was born, actually," Kurama answered easily. "I'm sure you have much more creative things you can call me."  
  
"I could think of something," Neville shot back, "but Gran would probably wash my mouth out with soap."  
  
Ew! I thought that was some human literary myth! Kurama made a face. "Far be it from me to let that happen. Keep your mild insults."  
  
"Thanks," Neville said dryly. "I will." They went back to work.  
  
Two minutes later...  
  
"Slytherin."  
  
"Gryffindor."  
  
The moon sailed further across the sky, and Hagrid settled onto a log some distance away, still between them and the Forest. Eventually when Kurama glanced back, Neville had finished his patch of ground. Kurama set his spade down.  
  
"Come on," he said, sitting up straight and arching his back -- his spine popped, a series of little kinks squeezing from it as he stretched, "we'll take a break." He stood slowly, letting cramped leg muscles adjust before he stepped over to the basket he'd left by the wheelbarrow. As Neville followed, wobbling slightly, Kurama tipped the wheelbarrow over and sat down on it, digging into the basket. He came up with a thermos, and then -- with a bit of rummaging -- a second, larger one, and two extra mugs. "Here we are... mulled cider, and some sort of soup. I forgot to ask the elves what kind."  
  
Neville accepted a mug and one of the thermos lids. "Now will you tell me what we're doing?" he asked plantively, as Kurama poured cider and soup for each of them.  
  
I can't say much... I don't want to give him any expectations. Who knows if he'll be able to feel it at all? "We're doing Mysterious Arcane Plant Master things," Kurama said, trying to make Neville smile.  
  
"Ku-ra-ma..." Neville almost growled.  
  
I see someone's been paying attention to Hiei, Kurama thought. Not a bad imitation, for a human. "Sorry," Kurama murmured. "But we really are doing that-- no, let me explain! Our power comes from ourselves, as Genkai explained, but in our particular cases, it also comes from the objects we have powers with. In our case, plants. Seeds." Neville waited, the picture of patience now that Kurama wasn't evading his questions... much. "The more power in the seed, the more power we have. So we're... priming them, I think you would call it."  
  
"Priming... preparing them?" Neville asked. "So they're more powerful when we need them?"  
  
"Yes," Kurama answered, with some relief. "Exactly."  
  
"How's that work?"  
  
Dammit! That would be the question I don't want to answer yet! "Well... taking out all the fancy words and theoretical jargon from when I learned the details... the seeds are soaking up power from the earth itself, just like all the other plants this time of year."  
  
As Neville thought this over, he took a long drink of his soup. Then... "So we have to do this every year," he concluded reluctantly.  
  
Kurama nodded. "And the more seeds you have, the more work you have to do." Which was why Kurama's section was three times the size of Neville's. "Right now, your kit is fairly small, since you're learning. The largest plot for a Plant Master should be about ten times the size of mine," Neville's eyes went wide in horror, "but that's for a settled Master, with cabinets full of seeds, and a large tract of land, and plenty of extra time. A mobile Master, such as myself, pares down to the minimum and forages for the rest."  
  
"I think I like that idea better," Neville admitted.  
  
Kurama finished his cider. "So do I, but some people prefer the other way. Their choice." Neville yawned, and Kurama chuckled, setting his empty cider aside. He dove back into the basket with his free hand. "I figured that would happen once I got some food in you," he murmured, coming up with a bedroll. "Here. Get some sleep."  
  
"But I took that nap..." Neville muttered uncertainly.  
  
"You've got nothing else to do until I'm done," Kurama pointed out. "You may as well."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Neville. Nap. Now."  
  
"Yessir," Neville grumbled, taking the bedroll and setting his empty cups aside. He glanced around at the snow-covered lawn, sighed, and laid the bedroll out on his patch of bare dirt, curling up in it without the usual wounded dignity of a teenager sent to bed. It really was very late.  
  
Kurama took a few warmed stones from the charmed basket, and tucked them in under Neville's blankets. "Sleep well, Neville," he murmured, before lifting his spade once more and looking at the frozen ground with a sigh.  
  
It was going to be a long night.  
  



	35. Setsubun

  
"Neville? C'mon, Neville, wake up," Kurama murmured, shaking the boy's shoulder. The sky was starting to lighten imperceptibly in the east; Kurama had let Neville sleep a little longer than he probably should have. The last stretch of grass in his section had been the hardest to free from the ground. He'd spent a little too much time flexing half-frozen, blistered fingers and snarling at the stubborn patch.  
  
Neville stirred and tugged the bedroll closer around himself, grumbling fitfully.  
  
This wouldn't work. Kurama yanked the blankets away. "Wake up!"  
  
The frigid night air hit Neville, and he jerked upright with a yelp. "COLD!"  
  
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Kurama replied. That earned him a sour look. "We don't have much time. Here, your box."  
  
Neville blinked rapidly, disoriented from the shock of waking, as Kurama pressed his seed kit into his hands and pulled him to his feet.  
  
"Gloves off," Kurama ordered. His were already gone, stuffed into a pocket.  
  
"But it's cold..." Neville muttered, tugging the dragonhide off anyway and nearly dropping his box.  
  
"It'll only get worse, I'm afraid." Frostbite on top of blisters. How much longer...? Kurama glanced at the sky and began pulling seeds from his hair, entire handfuls at a time. "Take your kit and start tossing seeds on the ground," he said, doing so. "Keep it nice and even; it works best if they aren't clumped together in each other's way."  
  
Neville cast him an odd look (I've only used a seed from my hair in his presence... what, once? Twice? Kurama thought. And I don't think he was really paying attention either time: too wary of the big bad Slytherin, too furious with Snape), but opened his box and began scattering the contents, casting in broad, skilled arcs.  
  
Not a bad technique. I wonder if he feeds birds often or if that's just an accident?  
  
The sky slowly brightened in the east -- yellow, gold, white, a stain of pale pink on a lone cloud -- as they emptied their seed kits gently onto their respective plots. Occasionally, one or the other would bend to check that a seed hadn't bounced, pushing it back onto their own side of the line or out of the snow if it had.  
  
Working this way, it wasn't long before both boys finished.  
  
Kurama straightened and brushed the dirt from his hands, dislodging a last, stubborn seed. It fell to the bared dirt, but Kurama didn't really care. "Just a couple last things," he said, stepping into the snow on the west side of the cleared land. Neville followed. "Stand here, and face east."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You'll see. Now, I want you to feel for your magic. Don't do anything with it, just feel for the power and hold onto it. You got it?"  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"Good." Kurama raised his hands, with one last glance at Neville. "This, you don't have to do -- it's just a habit of mine."  
  
"Wha--?"  
  
The trees on the horizon flashed gold under their canopy. Kurama clapped his hands twice and threw his arms wide, just as the sun's rays fell full upon him.  
  
Deep in his heart, immensity quietly snapped into place.  
  
Neville choked on his question, clutching at his chest.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
High in Gryffindor Tower, Harry woke with a gasp, his scar burning.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama felt his face break into a pure, radiant smile. Good morning, he thought. Welcome back.  
  
"What..." Neville stammered. "What WAS that?"  
  
Kurama didn't answer for a long moment, watching the sun lift itself higher over the eastern hills.  
  
"Genkai wasn't my first teacher," Kurama finally, softly said. "My first was an ancient Plant Master, one of the most powerful in the Far East..." So he was fudging the truth a little. Youko was self-taught. "He had five students over the course of his life, before I was born. I don't know how accurate it is, but the girls told him it felt like conception."  
  
"Like... what?!"  
  
Kurama glanced at him -- the poor boy was starting to turn red. "Winter dormancy just broke. All the potential for life, all the magic sleeping in every seed, is awake and pulling in power from the earth, taking advantage of a spike in the background power today to germinate." He paused. "So the world just concieved -- sort of -- and we felt it. Feel it. Weird, isn't it?"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Again.  
  
AGAIN.  
  
Harry kicked free of his sheets, shoving his feet into shoes and pulling a robe (yesterday's school robe, wrinkled) over his pajamas. I was going to have a lie-in, but NO. That snakey git can't leave off for more than a couple of weeks. He stormed from the room, growling as any teenager on too little sleep would, and down the stairs.  
  
Through the common room -- parchment blew off the tables, swirling until he slammed the Fat Lady's portrait shut in his wake. Down the halls, down the moving staircases -- paintings clattered -- and through the empty corridors to the stone gargoyle -- a torch went out.  
  
"I'm NOT guessing ten billion kinds of candy," he snapped at the gargoyle. "Just MOVE already." The gargoyle nearly skittered out of Harry's way, and he stomped up the steps. Shoving open the door at the top of the stairs, Harry strode across the room and barely stopped in front of Dumbledore's desk. Only the respect he had for the old man, deeply instilled from age eleven, kept him from shouting.  
  
"I am SICK of this, Headmaster. I'm sick of my scar, I'm sick of the pain, I am SICK of having to see it every BLOODY time that snakey git kills or throws a hissy fit about SNAPE..."  
  
Dumbledore blinked at Harry over his half-moon glasses. "I take it you dreamed again?"  
  
"YES, I bloody dreamed!"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"So... we... I just felt the planet..." Neville trailed off, shaking his head.  
  
Kurama shrugged. "Well, the region. The climate's different in other parts of the world. But, yes, you did. And to be quite honest, I'm a little surprised."  
  
"Surprised? Why?"  
  
Aside from the fact that humans are appallingly blind to the turning of the seasons? Well... "Normally, a student shouldn't be opened to the power until about the tenth month of training, but--" Western schooling starts at a completely insane time of year. Who ever heard of starting things in the middle of the harvest? Bad luck, that. "-- that's because the best one to start with is the first, and usually training starts in late spring."  
  
"Best one?" Neville blinked at him. "You mean there are more?"  
  
"Several," Kurama admitted. "And they aren't all happy occasions, like today. Most are great," he stressed, since Neville's eyes had flickered with some pained emotion, "but the autumn equinox is... lonely. And Halloween--" hurt like Kaasan's crisis days in the hospital, only worse, "--well. If I don't have you up to growing your own sleeping medicines by then, you can have one of mine. Or buy one," he added as an afterthought.  
  
"But... but... Can't we just... not feel it?" Neville asked. "Not do this opening-up thing on those days?"  
  
Kurama stepped away, sitting quietly back on the wheelbarrow and folding his hands before his face. "Opening to the power is a one-time deal. The link is permanent."  
  
"... Permanent?"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Dumbledore gestured for Harry to sit, and steepled his hands gravely. "Sherbet lemon?"  
  
"No." Harry slumped into the indicated chair. "Just... no."  
  
"Tea?"  
  
"NO." Let's just get it over with already. "Unicorn dream, same as usual, forgot to write the symbols and can't remember them, and--" most importantly, "--are you even bothering to do ANYTHING with the bloody information or not?"  
  
Dumbledore sipped at his tea, thinking for a long moment. "We are," he finally said.  
  
Harry waited another long moment, and when it was apparent nothing more was forthcoming, prodded, "And?"  
  
"And as long as we are unsure that your connection to Voldemort is only one-way, we cannot tell you."  
  
WHAT?!  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"What do you mean, 'permanent'?!" Neville all but yelped.  
  
"I mean," Kurama said, "exactly that. Uncloseable. Lifelong. Permanent."  
  
"But... I mean it wasn't bad, but what if I didn't -- I don't WANT to be linked to the planet and hurt on Halloween and... and..." Neville stammered, shrinking in on himself.  
  
A faint nervousness settled into Kurama's stomach.  
  
... I think I just made a very, very big mistake somewhere. "We don't get a choice in the matter," Kurama said quietly, carefully. "It happens naturally after about a year of training."  
  
Neville stared at him, his eyes wide and frighteningly vulnerable. Kurama suppressed a wince at the expression. I thought I was better at handling cubs...  
  
"It's not bad, actually," Kurama mused aloud. "Today is the softest and most sudden, but it's also the most quietly joyful. Like a new baby. It's the proper place to begin. The next..." How many? "... three are daylong. You feel like you can take on the world, or run forever, and you want to dance under the moon til you're dizzy--" or fight a dragon for the beauty of it, or mate for joy rather than need... He quickly derailed that train of thought. Now wasn't the time to get distracted.  
  
"The fourth is barely noticeable, really, and only the last two are unpleasant, as I said."  
  
Neville's eyes had flicked to the ground sometime during Kurama's quiet explanation. "Oh."  
  
That wasn't a favorable or helpful reaction. Kurama sighed. "I'm not a mind-reader, Neville. I don't know what else to say."  
  
"How about 'sorry for not asking first'?" Neville mumbled.  
  
Sorry for...? Oh. Oh, crap... "Time for brutal honesty, I see," Kurama said. "It wouldn't have been a matter of asking at all, after you began training -- I may as well ask the winter not to come -- but I should have told you this was going to happen when I offered you tutoring in the first place. And I should have given you the choice of day." He bowed deeply from his seat on the wheelbarrow, properly as Shiori had taught him for maximum humility. I don't bow even to gods, stopitstopitstopit-- but he is MY student and if I shatter him I swear my humiliation will be a thousand times worse!  
  
Hands caught his shoulders. "Don't!" Neville pleaded.  
  
Kurama's eyes flicked upwards. "But I--"  
  
"I'll forgive you, okay? Just don't--!" He sat back, rubbing a hand over his face in embarrassment. "Don't do that."  
  
Gladly, Kurama thought. He would be more than happy to never have to bow to anyone ever again, much less think of his mistake.  
  
"So, now what do we do?" Neville asked, shivering, after a long and less-than-comfortable silence.  
  
Kurama looked out over the large strip of dirt. "Now? We stand guard against pranks. And we wait."  
  
"... wait for what?" Neville asked warily.  
  
"Nothing magical, just afternoon. We can start picking the seeds back up then." He paused. "By hand."  
  
Neville groaned in dismay.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry stepped back through the portrait hole into Gryffindor Tower, feet dragging... and froze as something bounced off his scar.  
  
"Fuku wa uchi!" Kuwabara yelled cheerfully.  
  
Glancing down, Harry saw a bean laying at his feet. "What the heck...?"  
  
A second bean bounced off his head. "Oni wa soto," Yuusuke said. "Setsubun good luck. You look like you need it."  
  
"You're throwing beans at me," Harry said, incredulous.  
  
They gave him matching grins and shrugs, and Yuusuke admitted, "All over the room, actually. Your head just happens to be in the way."  
  
Riiiiiiight.  
  
Kuwabara winked at him, jerking his thumb towards the window, where Hiei sat staring grouchily out at the world. "Now, his head..." he said, digging into a bag.  
  
Uhoh.  
  
"Oni wa soto!" Kuwabara said, tossing a bean at Hiei. Hiei's hand flicked, catching the tiny object without seeing it. "Ehhh? It didn't work!"  
  
Hiei turned his head away from the window, glaring. His hand snapped out, throwing the bean back. "Baka wa soto," he growled pointedly, as it shattered between Kuwabara's eyes. "It didn't work. You must be an aho instead." Yuusuke burst out laughing.  
  
"EHHH?! I, the great Kuwabara Kazuma, am--"  
  
"An even greater fool than I first thought," Hiei interrupted. "Do I look like Saotome?"  
  
Yuusuke stifled his laughter long enough to gasp, "If you tilt your head right and squint--" Hiei's glare intensified. "-- not a bit!"  
  
"I'm up for a nap," Harry said hastily, deciding to escape before there was bloodshed. He ran up the stairs back to his room, two at a time, not hearing the sounds of a fight starting before he shut the door behind him.  
  
Safe. He walked over to his bed, falling onto the rumpled blankets and kicking his shoes off. His gaze landed on the box Genkai had given him earlier that week.  
  
"Of COURSE," he muttered to himself, flipping the lid up. He could just interrogate the damn snake about Voldemort's plans! "Wake up!"  
  
Nagini's head stirred. "Master?"  
  
Harry shivered at the title, but stifled it. "The other who can speak to you. What does he do with the one-horns and their silver blood?"  
  
An uncertain hiss, the parseltongue equivalent of a 'huh?' "What other? Only you speak."  
  
"The one who spoke to you before me. The strange two-tail with red eyes!"  
  
".... before you? There was a pink-hair before you... a brown-eye before her, who gave me this dark place... but neither could speak..."  
  
What was she saying? "You don't remember?!"  
  
"No..."  
  
Harry slammed the box back on the table and shoved his head under a pillow, furious.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Very little happened throughout the rest of the day, except for Filch screaming bloody murder about soybeans mysteriously scattered all over his clean floors. And a last encounter as the culprits circled the grounds outside...  
  
-0-0-0  
  
They'd spent several painstaking hours picking seeds from the ground by hand, frigid mud soaking into their clothes as the sunshine drove the temperature a smidgen above freezing. Kurama had allowed the absolute minimum amount of magic; just enough of their core magic to feel for the seeds buried in mud or too small to see. He had not allowed either himself or Neville to put their gloves back on.  
  
As focused on the ground as he was, Kurama heard the familiar shouts before he saw either boy.  
  
"Oni wa soto!"  
  
"Fuku wa uchi!"  
  
He snapped straight, his spine creaking painfully as he pointed at Yuusuke and Kuwabara with a muddy finger. His glare stopped them in their tracks.  
  
"If you throw ANY of those things over here," he said fiercely, "I swear I will kick your asses all the way back to Tokyo!"  
  
All three -- Yuusuke, Kuwabara, and Neville -- gaped at him.  
  
"It's a bean, Kurama," Yuusuke said, tossing one lightly towards him (not far enough to get anywhere near the garden plots, though). "They're your thing anyways."  
  
"Yeah, what's your problem?" Kuwabara asked.  
  
Kurama narrowed his eyes. "We've been working all night, and you'll damage the whole power matrix if you go throwing good-luck beans in here now."  
  
"What are good-luck beans," Neville asked, "and why would they mess things up?"  
  
Yuusuke smacked a hand against his forehead. "It's amazing you people ever manage," he muttered. "Se-tsu-bu-n! You throw soybeans around to soak up the bad luck and bring in the good!"  
  
"Yuusuke, really-- you didn't know about Halloween," Kurama said. "Don't expect them to know about Setsubun." He turned back to Neville. "Soybeans are overly efficient at soaking up power. They drive away demons -- bad luck -- by taking away the power that attracts them,"  
  
"They do?" Yuusuke asked.  
  
"--not that your average Japanese person knows that," Kurama finished. "Yes, Yuusuke, they do. Which is why they do damage if you go throwing them about at random."  
  
Yuusuke and Kuwabara went red, and started grinning sheepishly.  
  
Kurama froze. "... you haven't been throwing them about at random, have you?" he asked warily.  
  
"Um... not entirely?"  
  
"Go," Kurama sighed. "Tell Genkai you're idiots -- it'll save her the trouble -- then what I just said about soybeans, then ask if she'll Accio them for you."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
And so it was that Yuusuke and Kuwabara wound up replacing the sod for Kurama and Neville that night, and scrubbing the Great Hall from ceiling to floor all day Sunday.  
  



	36. Square One

  
  
  
  
It was scarcely more than a week later, a snowy Monday evening, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat firmly ensconced at a study table in the dark recesses of the library. Bitter weather, a quarter-term lull in the homework, and Harry's fifth vision -- with the sense that time was somehow running out -- had all coincided with Hermione to drag the three of them to spend the past week deep in the stacks.  
  
While Harry and Ron slowly read the smaller tomes, mostly lower-year books with plain, easily-read handwriting or printing, Hermione had tackled the rest -- a far larger portion of the library's contents. Some had required translation charms. Others were illustrated beautifully, their writing so ornate that it was barely legible. A couple had been old and obviously cheap, with poorly-charmed ink faded to near invisibility. One notable horror had two pages' worth of writing over every page, one set of lettering perpendicular to the other.  
  
Hermione had dived into them all, her face a mask of terrible control as she flipped rapidly and carefully through each volume. Harry and Ron had asked only once how she was managing to actually read the pages, with them in such constant motion.  
  
 _And I am never, ever doing that again!_ Harry swore, half-hiding behind his copy of _Beastly Potions: A Beginner's Grimoire_ at the memory. Aunt Petunia's got nothing on Hermione at that-time-of-month.  
  
He blinked as something occured to him. _I hope it was that, and not some personality quirk we haven't run into before. PMS is only once-a-month._  
  
Suddenly, Hermione slammed her book shut, letting her head fall forward onto her arms. "Done," she muttered.  
  
"Done with what?" Ron asked.  
  
Her voice muffled by her position, Hermione tiredly said, "I have looked through every. Single. Book in this library. Except the restricted ones--"  
  
"You've read every book?" Ron repeated, incredulous.  
  
Hermione's scowl was audible. "I said I've looked at them, not read them. Pass me that parchment; it's time to see if I've gotten anything."  
  
She hasn't been reading them... then what's she been doing all these months? Harry wondered, pushing a scroll over to her.  
  
It bumped her elbow, and she pulled herself upright. Her eyes were bright with an odd sort of glee. "Watch this," she said, almost smugly, as she unrolled the parchment and smoothed it flat. "If I get to the end of the page, put another one in front of me, and don't let me go past five pages, okay?"  
  
"Hermione... what are you--?" Harry's mouth snapped shut, as a shaft of pale light burst from Hermione's right palm. It solidified into a glowing quill, and she began to scribble over the blank parchment.  
  
She hadn't dipped into an inkwell, but black lines began to cover the paper. A jot here, a scribble there, a few dashes and lines; Harry suddenly realized that it was writing, line after line of writing, none of it in Hermione's own hand. In fact, few lines were in the same hand at all!  
  
A elaborate, gothic print took two lines. A spidery script took another. Cramped, badly-blotted letters; a block print; a flowing print with the Elizabethan F-shaped style of S's... all methodically filled the page, and all had the same phrase within the line, sentence, or paragraph. Harry leaned in, peering closer as Hermione continued to write, her face slack and eyes blank.  
  
 _The blood of a unicorn is not used._  
  
 _...tis a cursed half-life ye shall have, should ye drink of the lifeblood of a unicorn..._  
  
 _The unicorn's horn, blood, and hair all have highly magical qualities._  
  
 _... spiced, charmed silver, and served hot, the beverage nicknamed unicorn-blood is popular among rebellious young hags..._  
  
"Hermione, what are you doing?" Ron asked.  
  
 _...six of the pure unicorne slain, their bloode taken for purposes unknowne, afore we caught thee Darke wizard..._  
  
No answer.  
  
 _...if human blood is unavailable, vampires prefer unicorn blood to any other animal's..._  
  
 _.. unicorn's blood is only used in Dark magic..._  
  
 _...unicorn blood is not used..._  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
 _...half-life..._  
  
 _...not used..._  
  
 _...cursed..._  
  
 _...not used..._  
  
Harry tore his gaze away from the parchment. "Hermione?" he asked as well, waving a hand before her face. No reaction; her eyes didn't flicker, the pupils didn't dilate. Just like a doll's, just like Imperius, just like-- Harry grabbed her shoulder, yanking her around. "Hermione!"  
  
The glowing quill popped like a bubble, and she jerked. "Wha--?"  
  
"Thank Merlin!" Ron blurted. "You weren't answering or anything."  
  
"Of course I wasn't responding!" Hermione said, jerking loose in exasperation. "I was in a trance."  
  
"A trance?" Ron asked. "What for?"  
  
Hermione tapped the parchment. "My core magic. I can copy any page I've ever seen, but I have to be in a meditative trance to do so and you guys broke it!"  
  
Harry and Ron looked sheepishly at each other. "Um... oops?"  
  
Hermione sighed. "All right, listen, because I'm only going to tell you this once." No you won't, Harry thought. You always tell us as many times as it takes to 'pound it into our bloody thick skulls'. "I looked at -- but did not read -- every single book in this library, except the restricted ones and the ones I've already read. Now, I am going to go into a meditative trance and do my core magic, focused on the phrase 'unicorn blood'. In this trance, I will write down all the information about unicorn blood mentioned in this library. And you two are to make sure I don't do more than five--" she paused and glanced at the parchment "-- no, four and a half pages, because I'm not strong enough to do more than that yet. Okay?"  
  
They nodded dumbly. What was there to really say to that?  
  
She bent over the parchment again, the quill reappearing in her hand, and began to scribble in unnerving silence.  
  
Harry and Ron watched for all of five seconds, before Ron muttered, "Wonder why she needs to be in a trance? I don't."  
  
 _Like I would have any idea?_ Harry thought. "Dunno." _Genkai's all but ignored the problem of my untestable core magic since September._  
  
"You know," Ron mused, "our core magics seem really weird. How's writing supposed to fight demons?"  
  
Harry shrugged distractedly. _Stupid long-way-around is either a load of bull or is longer than I thought..._  
  
"Or playing chess, for that matter?" Ron continued. "I mean, Minamino's whip-thing, I can see how that works, but how d'you think he thought of it?"  
  
... _or she's got it in for me._ Which wasn't all that impossible, considering the rest of his Defense professors.  
  
Ron switched Hermione's full parchment for a blank one. "If anything, I would think he'd've gone for a sword made from a branch, or poison or something. There's a scary thought, huh?"  
  
"Yeah. Scary." _Okay. I'm doing well in weapons class, according to Hiei, and he said I can bring my knife on Friday... that's good. I've got a killer Patronus... I wonder if there's a way to modify it to work on stuff besides Dementors? Still the best Seeker in a century... what's that take? No fear of heights, obviously, and agility and good eyesight -- why the heck do I need glasses, then? What else does being Seeker take...?_  
  
"Bloody hell!" Ron snapped, jolting Harry out of his thoughts. "There's nothing here!"  
  
Harry blinked at Ron, who was staring at one of Hermione's parchments. "What?"  
  
"Nothing!" Ron repeated. "They all say unicorn blood isn't used, or is only for Dark magic, but they don't say what sort of Dark magic."  
  
"What?" After all these weeks, they had nothing?! Harry grabbed the parchment Ron was holding out to him, and began scanning the lines. "Not used, dark magic, cursed life, dark wizard, not used, not used..."  
  
Next to him, Hermione paused most of the way down her fourth page. Her magic quill vanished, and she sagged in her chair.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry and Ron chorused. Had she done too much?  
  
"'M fine," she answered, waving them off. "I finished... it's a bit disorienting. How much do we have?"  
  
"Um... three and two-thirds of a page," Harry answered, glancing quickly at the last sheet. "But we haven't found anything."  
  
"Nothing?" Hermione asked, incredulous. The boys shook their heads. "We're back to square one, then?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Dammit!" she muttered.  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
"What? I can be upset too!"  
  
Harry scuffed a toe on the floor under the table, and tried to mutter a reason why she couldn't, but he couldn't come up with any reason except "because". She glared at him, daring him to say it, then at Ron. When neither were quite stupid enough to do so, she sat back in her chair and visibly shook off her annoyance.  
  
"Well, then," she said decisively. "It's time for Plan B."  
  
Ron blinked. "What's Plan B?"  
  
"I'll let you know once I think of it."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Wednesday dawned, and the breakfast din carried a strange note of anticipation. It was February 14th, and very few people carried lingering trauma from Lockhart's celebration 3 years ago.  
  
Harry Potter, unfortunately, was one of those people who did. He poked at his kippers listlessly, strangely ill with the yearly hope that he wouldn't get another Valentine like the infamous "his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad's".  
  
Hoots echoed through the rafters, and all eyes looked up to see night-silent owls soaring into the Hall. Most carried pink or white envelopes -- wizards only used red envelopes for Howlers -- though a few carried distinctive heart-shaped boxes. They began to swoop down and land on the tables, scattering plates and cups everywhere.  
  
Five... nine... ten... twelve... Harry absently counted as he stuffed the cards away in his schoolbag, burying them under his homework. Why are there so bloody many this year?  
  
An owl landed on Hermione's plate, but it only carried the morning paper. She unfolded it and began reading, ignoring the ruckus.  
  
"Ahhh!" Kuwabara yelled happily. "I got chocolates from Yukina-chan!"  
  
"Shut u--" Hiei's voice cut off sharply. Harry glanced up just in time to see an owl drop a frilly, red, heart-shaped box on the smaller boy's plate, next to a second heart-shaped box and a small, square, gold one. Hiei stared at them as if he expected them to spontaneously combust in his face.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Blaise tapped Kurama's arm. "Hey, a couple of owls just dropped off Valentines for Jaganshi."  
  
Kurama made a soft sound of agreement around a mouthful of eggs. He'd noticed.  
  
"Are either of them yours?"  
  
 _Of course not,_ Kurama thought. _Only girls give things on Valentine's._ He scoffed and took a drink of tea to wash down the eggs.  
  
"Aren't you jealous?" Blaise pressed.  
  
"Nope."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Looks like someone has an admirer!" Yuusuke laughed, elbowing Hiei.  
  
Kuwabara pulled himself away from his delight over Yukina's gift to stare at Hiei in shock. "Who the heck would give Valentine chocolate to the shrimp?!"  
  
Hiei shook his head in mute confusion, his mouth starting to curl in a sneer.  
  
"Let's find out," Yuusuke said cheerfully, leaning in to uncover the flap on the tags. "From... Yukina," the gold one, "Lavender, and Parvati." He slapped a hand on Hiei's shoulder and crowed, "Way to go, man! It's the Seer thing, right? Bit of hero worship going on?"  
  
Hiei put Yukina's gift into a pocket of his robe, and unfolded a napkin. "Yuusuke?" he asked flatly, taking the lid off the first box. "Shut up." Yuusuke promptly let go, smirking, as Hiei poured the contents of both heart-shaped boxes into the napkin, folded it, and slipped it into a different pocket.  
  
"Um, Hiei...?" Kuwabara asked warily, as Hiei piled the empty boxes onto his plate and rolled up his left sleeve. "What are--?"  
  
Hiei set his hand on top of the boxes, and they promptly burst into flame.  
  
Harry -- and every Gryffindor within five feet -- promptly shrieked and shoved away. Harry fell on his back, scrabbling off the bench and yanking Hermione (and her paper) with him.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The sudden ruckus across the Hall caught the attention of every Slytherin at breakfast. Half of them stood, trying to see. Draco allowed Crabbe -- the tallest of his lackeys -- a moment to look, then asked, "Well?"  
  
"Fire at the Gryffindor table," Crabbe answered, grinning. "Looks like... it's in front of Jaganshi. But he's just sitting there."  
  
Draco blinked. "Just what?"  
  
Crabbe leaned forward intently, squinting, then nodded to himself. "He's sitting with his hand in the fire." Draco didn't have time to do more than suck in a shocked breath, before Crabbe added, "Doesn't look like it's bothering him a bit."  
  
 _Fire... his hand... isn't bothering...?_  
  
Draco and Pansy rounded as one on Kurama, sitting a few seats down. "Alright, Minamino, talk!"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hermione and Harry untangled themselves and scrambled up, just as the teachers arrived.  
  
"Hydrosis!" (McGonagall)  
  
"Exstinguo!" (Hermione)  
  
"Aqua Misceo!" (Sinistra)  
  
"Irrigata!" (Sprout)  
  
Four different streams of water poured over Hiei and his burning hand. The boy ducked instinctively, furiously, and the fire roared higher in defiance.  
  
"Jaganshi, put that out! Now!" Genkai yelled.  
  
Surprisingly, this worked better than all four spells -- Hiei shot her a sour glare, and deliberately lifted his hand from the ashes. The fire flickered and died, leaving only embers smoldering on his plate.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Minamino smiled at Draco and Pansy; a secretive, Mona-Lisa half-smile. "Why?" he asked, not bothering to pretend he didn't know what they were asking.  
  
"He's got fire magic, doesn't he?" Pansy asked. "He's making the fire!"  
  
Brilliant, Pansy, Draco thought, not entirely sure if he was being sarcastic or not.  
  
"Well... aa..." Kurama rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "It's not as if he's keeping it hidden."  
  
Draco barely kept from rolling his eyes. _Not anymore, he's not._ "So why's it been kept a secret all these months?" he asked dryly.  
  
A shrug. "He hasn't had reason to use it."  
  
 _Not fair! Gryffindors aren't supposed to be discreet!_ He opened his mouth to protest, but Blaise beat him to it.  
  
"Damn. Fire magic, huh?" the boy asked. Kurama, Draco, and Pansy turned tired looks on him. "And you're plant magic... you're either completely incompatible, or perfect counterparts."  
  
"Would you get off that idea already?" Kurama asked.  
  
"I'm just saying..."  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
Slowly, Hiei turned on the four spellcasters, dripping wet. I. Hate. Water, he thought, starting to growl.  
  
"Um... it's only water, man," Yuusuke said, not touching Hiei. "They were trying to help."  
  
Genkai hopped up to stand on the bench across from Hiei, leaning across the table. "Next time," she said curtly, shocking Hiei into silence, "don't be so spectacular. Trash bins exist for a reason." Hiei intensified his glare, not fazing her a bit. "Don't give me that. You could have provoked a panic."  
  
McGonagall stepped in. "Which is," she added sternly, "exactly why I am giving you detention, and taking twenty points."  
  
Like I care about points? Hiei scowled and opened his mouth to say so, only to choke on the first word as Yuusuke poked him in the shoulder.  
  
"Shounen ningen, Hiei," he said. Human teenager. He had to play human. Nevermind that twit girls were giving him random, creepy presents. And nevermind that he knew Kurama was laughing his tails off in his mind, and would never, ever let him live this down.  
  
 _I can't wait until this fucking mission is OVER._  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Once the ashes had been swept from Hiei's general vicinity, and the students had all nervously retaken their seats, breakfast proceeded as most breakfasts at Hogwarts did... until a lone, large owl arrived late, nearly at the end of breakfast. It dropped one letter in front of Kurama (and stole a piece of bacon), then soared across the room and dropped another before Kuwabara.  
  
Kuwabara picked up his idly, glanced at the front, and flung himself violently away from it, falling off the bench. "Aneki!" he yelped.  
  
Yuusuke twisted to look at him. "Your sister wrote?" he asked, his eyes gleaming impishly as he took in Kuwabara's overly horrified expression. "Well, then, let's see!"  
  
He deftly plucked the letter from Kuwabara's hands, leaping onto the table as Kuwabara jumped up in pursuit. Yuusuke landed with one foot between the juice pitcher and the bowl of eggs, and the other firmly planted on Kuwabara's head, pinning Kuwabara's face to the table. As Kuwabara thrashed under his foot, trying (and failing) to reach the letter, Yuusuke ripped it open and began to read.  
  
"'Kazu, you idiot.' Nice sister ya got there. 'Happy Valentine's', blah blah blah, 'write home more often you twit', uh huh, some stuff about your grades -- what a pain -- 'tell Yuusuke he--' WHAT?!" Yuusuke froze, his eyes widening, and he turned to shout at Kuwabara. "HEY! Where the hell does your sister get off saying I owe her ten bottles of sake?! And who said she could introduce MY MOM to CHUU?!"  
  
Kuwabara snorted into the table. "Sounds like a match made in heaven."  
  
"IT IS NOT!"  
  
Hiei glanced up. "Chuu wouldn't touch your mother," he said flatly. "He's not suicidal." A pause. "Move your foot or give me the juice."  
  
Yuusuke blinked down at him, then at the table he was standing on. "Er... ehehehe..." he laughed sheepishly, climbing down. Kuwabara swiped his letter back.  
  
"Teme!"  
  
Fortunately for the Gryffindor table, students, House points, and everyone's patience, the end-of-breakfast bell rang, cutting off the brewing scuffle. Students throughout the hall hurriedly scooped up bags and stuffed the last bites of food in their mouths, with those nearest the two Tantei moving slightly more quickly than everybody else.  
  
As students began scurrying out the doors, on their way to class, one paused. Hermione leaned across the table and jabbed Kuwabara in the arm.  
  
"Better get going now, you'll be late!" she warned. Her eyes flicked between the two. "And if you lose us any more points I will hex you myself."  
  
That said, she threw her schoolbag over her shoulder, pivoted on her heel, and left.  
  



	37. Close Encounters

  
  
  
"Not another one--!" Ron grumbled, moving to block a photographer's shot.  
  
"Is it going to be like this every time I set foot in public?" Harry wondered aloud.  
  
"No," Hermione answered. "Only near holidays, during slow news weeks, when there's an of-age public figure around, when your appearance is pretty much scheduled, when you're single and eligible--"  
  
"You're not helping, Hermione," Harry interrupted, starting to feel blood rushing to his face.  
  
She peered around him and down the street. "He's gone," she said. Both boys rolled their eyes in relief.  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had quickly discovered that the Hogsmeade weekend brought out far too many reporters and photographers -- not nearly as many as the first weekend, but enough to be a nuisance. They kept a wary eye out for them as they walked down the crowded main street, jostled by students free for the weekend from school. Many had decided to postpone Valentine's dates until today, and wandered the streets as couples in a mockable daze, paying no attention to who they ran into.  
  
Like now. Yuusuke walked backwards out of a side street, laughing, hands behind his head --  
  
"Yuusuke," Keiko shouted, "look where you're--"  
  
\-- and fell over Harry.  
  
"--going," Keiko finished. She sighed. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"  
  
"Um..." Rather than trying to answer that, Yuusuke scrambled off Harry and helped him up. "Sorry about that. No harm done, right?"  
  
Harry blinked, unable to focus, and tried to breathe. "Ow," he croaked. Got the wind knocked out of me... Didn't think anybody smaller than Dudley could do that to a bloke.  
  
Keiko bent down on Yuusuke's far side, retrieved something from the ground, and offered it to Harry. Squinting, Harry realized it was a pair of glasses: his. He'd lost them in the fall.  
  
"Thanks," he muttered, putting them on. The world refocused.  
  
She bowed to him. "Our apologies," she said perfunctorily, kicking Yuusuke slyly in the ankle. He winced, then bowed as well.  
  
Harry glanced around quickly for reporters -- this would look a right mess in the Sunday edition! "Right right, apology accepted."  
  
Another bow. "We won't trouble you further. WILL we, Yuusuke?"  
  
Yuusuke quickly shook his head. "Nope, definitely not."  
  
Just as long as you quit the bowing, Harry thought. Please!  
  
Luck was with Harry Potter that day. Keiko straightened even as he finished the mental plea, grabbed Yuusuke by the ear -- getting a yelp -- and walked off with the boy in tow, just as Harry glimpsed a photographer coming around the corner.  
  
Hermione caught Harry by the sleeve, and he and his friends quickly melted into the crowd.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry's dog lay rolling on the icy streambank when Youko-the-fox arrived, wriggling in the unmistakable torment of "too many fleas, too few paws". Youko paused for only a half-second behind the large tree where his bowtruckle chittered happily, before he glided out onto a large stone edging this side of the stream and sat.  
  
He'd put this off for too long, or not long enough perhaps. _Dangerous to reveal myself, but surely he's noticed my scent near the cave by now. And staring at old yearbooks isn't going to get me anywhere._  
  
The dog froze mid-wriggle, and rolled sharply to its feet. It caught sight of Youko -- pristine silver fur, five tails positioned carefully to be seen, sitting regally on the stone and watching with expressionless eyes -- and fell into a wary, defensive stance. It didn't growl.  
  
 _Smart enough to know canine body language. Does he know what sort of canine I am?_ Experimentally, he flicked his tails, drawing the dog's attention to them.  
  
The dog's eyes flew wide.  
  
 _That answers that._  
  
Slowly, Youko stood. The dog didn't move, remaining wary and cautious. Youko picked his way down to the water, and rather than jump and scare the dog into attacking, waded across the stream. The dog watched, taking a step back and turning as Youko stepped onto the bank a few feet from him, eyes on the dog even as he exposed his own flank to attack.  
  
 _Clue in, boy, I can't make myself more vulnerable without submitting -- and I don't do that._  
  
The dog whined, a low sound of not-quite-animal confusion, and twisted another step. Youko shook cold water from a back paw, as the dog slowly straightened out of its defensive crouch -- not completely, but just enough that Youko could tell the dog was considerably larger than himself. Though not quite so well-fed, he thought. _Oddly big for a dog -- patterned after a Grim, I'd guess._  
  
He trotted forward, surprising a yip from the dog, and waved his tails almost cheerily as he walked right into the dog's cave.  
  
Now the dog growled, chasing after him and skidding past, splay-footed in the center of the cave with teeth bared: an unmistakeable display of territorial ownership.  
  
Youko sat on his rump, flattening an ear in query, and waited. _Make no move to attack, only defend if he jumps you, don't submit, and confuse the hell out of him._ It was perhaps the only strategy that would get the Animagus to shapeshift and start talking.  
  
After several minutes where Youko didn't attack the dog, its growls slowly subsided, and its ears began to twitch in confusion.  
  
It's about time, Youko thought, trying to spear that idea into the Animagus' mind with his eyes. _Go manform -- I don't have all day!_  
  
The dog blinked, as if in shock, and then seemed to sigh. Stretching, his face flattened, joints twisting and fur fading, leaving only a bedraggled human in filthy robes sitting before the fox.  
  
"It's no good trying to fake out a kitsune, is it, sir?" he rasped.  
  
Youko's ear flicked. _You DO know... almost._  
  
"Oh, I know," the man answered. "I was always fascinated by canines, and the magical type?" He shook his head, a faint hint of a grin hovering near his mouth. "I remember that much. You, sir," he said, pointing his finger with a waggle, "are a five-tailed fox, one of the rare silver kitsune of the Orient, and since you showed yourself I can pretty well guess that you are here to test me for reasons of your own."  
  
Not bad for a half-starved fugitive human, Youko thought, tongue lolling in amusement as the man pushed himself to his feet and delivered a courtly bow.  
  
"Well, then. Sirius Black, of the most-noble-and-ancient-House-of Darkmarked Gits, at your service." His eyes gleamed impishly. "What can I do for you, lord fox?"  
  
Youko dipped his head. "The most noble and ancient House of Darkmarked Gits?" he asked, the magical sounds scratchy with disuse. _Twenty years? Thirty? I'd forgotten how rarely I speak as a fox... hope I don't bite my tongue._ "You amuse me, Sirius Black."  
  
"I try," the man replied, without a shred of modesty in his voice or grin.  
  
"So tell me, Sirius Black," Youko said, settling himself comfortably on the ground for a long story, "what is this 'Darkmarked', and what brings you to be a hermit out here?"  
  
Sirius winced. "That, lord fox, is a long and unamusing story."  
  
Youko turned abruptly stern. "Try me."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
In town, Hiei darted across the snowy rooftops, unnoticed by the bustling crowds of students and villagers in the streets below... save the rare times he misstepped, and sent a dash of snow falling on a witch or wizard's head. Even then, though, they only saw an empty roof by the time they finished glancing upwards.  
  
Hiei's eyes narrowed. The older wizards were perhaps too complacent and set in their ways, but this many months into their training, the oldest three classes of Hogwarts students should be at least showing signs that they noticed something.  
  
Time for a pop quiz, then. Hiei leapt from the corner of a building, landing behind the top student in core magic -- Lee Jordan -- on tiptoe.  
  
"Constant vigilance," he whispered into the boy's ear, leaping away as the boy yelped and spun, hand going for his wand.  
  
Lee's yell hadn't had a shred of power in it, and he had gone for his wand and ignored his core magic. That was acceptable, to a certain extent, but the fact that he hadn't reacted until Hiei had been through with the phrase and halfway back onto the roof...?  
  
Unacceptable. At this rate, an entire camp of enemies could Apparate into their midst and kill them all before they touched their magic. You fail.  
  
Hiei flickered away to talk to Genkai, deliberately kicking a footful of snow on Kuwabara, two streets over with Yukina, as he passed.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Sunday passed, and the Hall was as lively as ever Monday morning. Most students tried to ignore the fact that classes began again right after breakfast; a very few, mostly third-years, frantically scribbled the last few inches of their homework, put off in favor of the excursion.  
  
Hermione, as always, had her attention buried in the morning paper, reaching blindly for biscuits, rashers, and juice. Her questing hand found a muffin on her plate -- Ron's handiwork -- and she absently bit into it as she turned the page.  
  
Harry, as always, ignored Hermione. It never took her the entire meal to finish the paper, and it wasn't as if she was the only person to spend her breakfast engrossed in the Prophet. Most of the Ravenclaw table did, in fact.  
  
Besides, she sometimes blurted out comments about articles in the paper. It was bloody amusing, since it was something she never did with anything but the morning Prophet.  
  
"Scandal in the Ministry," she muttered into her muffin. "Since when isn't there scandal in the Ministry? You'd think politicians had nothing better to do than cheat and steal..."  
  
Ron elbowed her, glaring. "Hey!"  
  
"Hm? I didn't mean your family, Ron," she said, glancing up. "They aren't politicians, they're state employees."  
  
"Oh." Ron grinned sheepishly. "Right." With a nod, she turned back to the paper, flipping to the next page -- weather and the Traveler's Report. "How's Thursday night looking?" he asked.  
  
"Chance of sleet, turning to snow," Hermione answered. Ron made a face. "Enjoy Quidditch practice," she added sweetly.  
  
Hagrid abruptly stood, banging his goblet on the table in the distinctive rhythm of calling attention (usually done by tapping a piece of silverware against a glass). Slowly, the Hall quieted, everyone turning curiously to face the dais.  
  
"If yeh haven't seen th' paper today," he announced, "th' Traveler's Report tells yeh there's been a strange dog sighted near Hogsmeade."  
  
A knot of cold twisted in Harry's gut. _Sirius--!_  
  
"Th' beastie's 'a five-tailed, silver canine of unknown origin'--" Harry relaxed. Five tails and silver wasn't Padfoot. "-- but what they're not telling ye is that there's only one sort of canine that's got more'n one tail like that, and that's a keet-soo-nay."  
  
Hermione gasped in recognition.  
  
Hagrid tapped the table with one large finger, dishes clattering. "An' yeh aren't teh go lookin' fer it!" he said sternly. "A keet-soo-nay is a magic fox, an' they aren't tha' safe."  
  
 _Hagrid_ was warning them off a magical beast?  
  
"They aren't bad, o' course," Hagrid hastily added. That's not reassuring, Hagrid, Harry thought. "They're tricksters and pranksters. The nicest o' them will help yeh if yeh pass a test o' your morals, but tha's not something they do much.  
  
"If yeh offend them, or don't pass their test, yeh don't tend teh stay in one piece. So if yeh do run into it, yeh bow--" he stared pointedly at Malfoy for a second "-- apologize fer intruding, and walk away calmly." He stopped, and glanced around the room. "Er, anythin' else is fer Professor Genkai teh tell yeh," he finished awkwardly, retaking his seat.  
  
Before anyone could do more than take half a breath, Genkai stood on her chair. "There are two details about kitsune that are known by only a handful of people in the world."  
  
"One. Kitsune in their animal form are indistinguishable from their demon cousins, the youko." A wave of instinctive terror rippled through the Hall, students shifting, whimpering, paling, or a combination of the three. "Behaviorally, youko tend towards the same activities as kitsune do. The only difference is that youko play lethal tricks and rig their games.  
  
"YOU ARE NOT TO GO LOOKING FOR THE BEAST!" she commanded, slapping her hands on the table before her. "Should you have the distinctly poor fortune of meeting it, though, the second fact comes into play." She paused, checking that everyone was paying attention. (This was unnecessary, Harry thought: no one's attention could've been pried away at that point by anything less than a Distractivus hex and the appearance of the demon itself in the Hall.) "Both youko and kitsune can take on human form. This is how you can identify which type you are dealing with.  
  
"The human kitsune looks fully human. They are always young and attractive, and tend to be female or feminine. Their shadows, though, remain fox-shaped. Should you encounter a stranger, check for that.  
  
"The human youko is merely man-shaped. They retain fox ears, one of their tails, and gold or red eyes." Another pause, to let that sink in. "For both types, follow Professor Hagrid's rules. Do not run: foxes have the instincts to chase. Do not attempt to bargain. Do not offer any sort of gift, tribute, or bribe. Do not take anything offered -- consider it with the same suspicion you give items from the Weasley twins."  
  
A stereo shout of protest came from the 7th-year end of the Gryffindor table. Genkai ignored it. "Do NOT, under any circumstances," she added, "use the word 'promise' or attempt to extract any commitments. Neither species will take kindly to it."  
  
"Above all," she finished, "do. Not. Panic. I can count on one hand the number of times kitsune have interacted with humans in the past century worldwide, though they've been sighted on several hundred occasions. Only three youko have been in the human world in that same time period, and have never bothered to come this far into Europe. The likelihood that a fox ranked as highly as a five-tail has come all the way to Scotland for a human is virtually zero. You don't bother it, and it won't bother you. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
A murmur of halfhearted agreement through the hall.  
  
"Good. I'll be available for questions during class."  
  
Thank Merlin, Harry thought, turning back to his breakfast with a hint of relief. Except...  
  
"Hermione?" he asked quietly. "Can I borrow Crookshanks?"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
 _Snuffles -_  
  
 _The paper says there's a magic fox around Hogsmeade right now. Be careful, okay? Even Hagrid says it's dangerous._  
  
 _\- Harry_  
  
 _P.S. - Hermione says there might be Aurors looking for the fox. Ron says the Ministry's too stupid to send them out after a fox unless one walks into Fudge's office and bites him on the arse. So be on the lookout for Aurors, too._  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Slytherin/Gryffindor Defense that day was more like storytime than a class, with students asking so many questions about kitsune that Genkai canceled the day's lesson and pulled tale after ancient Oriental tale about kitsune from her memory.  
  
A question from Hermione about the tails sparked a lecture on Inari and The Lady, and the direct relationship between rank, strength, age, and the number of tails.  
  
Another question from, surprisingly, Neville -- who rarely raised his hand in class -- addressed the main concern everybody had: what youko ate.  
  
"They eat the same things humans do, for the most part," Genkai replied. "They're quite fond of lemon rice balls and deep-fried tofu, in fact." A collective sigh of relief went through the room. "They also eat small game, like your owls do."  
  
"So they don't eat humans at all?" Millicent Bulstrode asked. "Even though they're demons?"  
  
"No."  
  
"What about kitsune?"  
  
Genkai's mouth twitched. "Actually, there has been a reported case of a human eating a kitsune." Kurama could almost hear the students blink, processing that, and stifled a smirk as she launched into another tale.  
  
Eventually, just before the bell, Genkai stopped the flow of questions and passed back essays from the week before. Kurama glanced to the red writing at the top of the page.  
  
Under the grade, in Japanese, Genkai had written: _Stay after class. We need to talk._  
  
Kurama rerolled the scroll and pushed it down into his schoolbag, mildly impressed at how discreet she'd managed to be. He'd expected such a request since breakfast.  
  
The bell rang, and Kurama loitered as Genkai shooed the most persistent of the curious and worried students -- Granger, of course, but also Finnigan and Brown of the Gryffindors, and Tracey, Blaise, and Pansy from the Slytherins -- out the door, slamming it closed on a last, "But Professor--!"  
  
She turned to him, and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I had a question about the homework," Kurama said, in case anybody could still hear through the door. He wouldn't put it past any of them to actively listen.  
  
"In my office, then," she said, jerking her head towards the stairway as she crossed the room. He followed her up, closing the door gently behind him, and she gestured for him to sit on the heavy floor pillow before her desk. "Tea?" she offered gruffly, not entirely discarding proper etiquette as she did with her Western students. Kurama shook his head, and she sat on her own pillow across the desk, folding her hands. "A Japanese demon spotted near a school with new Japanese transfer students," she said simply.  
  
She really didn't need to lay it out. A five-year-old could add those clues together. "They'll think it's one of us," Kurama murmured, since she seemed to expect an answer of some sort.  
  
"And?"  
  
"They'll watch us." Obviously. "Investigate us..." Start finding details that don't add up. It would take several weeks, at least, with Koenma's people blocking or diverting questions, but the clues were there.  
  
Yuusuke's death certificate.  
  
Team Urameshi.  
  
The missing records for Hiei, Yukina, and Botan.  
  
His own -- Inari! -- his own government files, each and every one clearly recording him as Minamino Shuiichi, not Kurama.  
  
But she wouldn't have called me up here to rub the problem in my face. Unless... "You have something in mind to fix this." It wasn't a question.  
  
"Brilliant deduction, Minamino," Genkai replied dryly, smirking.  
  
"Let me guess," Kurama said, equally dry. "Arrange for all of us to be seen at the same time as the youko at some point in the very near future." A nod. "And just how would you go about doing so, considering that wizards would check for an illusion right off the bat, and I can't be in two places at once?"  
  
Now her eyes joined the smirk. "Considering that you brought this down upon yourself, I would leave the creation of a doppelganger up to you."  
  
Kurama waited. _That can't possibly be her entire plan._  
  
After a minute without a reaction from Kurama, Genkai pulled a sheet of parchment out of a stack on her desk, and pushed it to the center. "I admit to being less interested in clearing suspiscion from you, than I am in having the Youko's participation in this." She tapped the paper, and Kurama's eyes flicked down to it. "It's all the better that it would solve both problems," she added, as Kurama carefully examined the diagram, reading the notes and figures.  
  
Interesting. "I see..." Kurama murmured. "I would be of more use than any number of illusions, I'm already here, and they wouldn't recognize me." Genkai nodded. "What's in it for me?"  
  
"Oseizonsha-sama."  
  



	38. Interlude

  
  
  
Harry -  
  
The fox? It's about time someone noticed it. I've been catching its scent since November, though I thought it was just an ordinary Muggle fox.  
  
I met him over the weekend, actually. Nice fellow, for a kitsune... of course, that might've been because once I saw him I remembered enough Defense to be exquisitely polite. "Lord fox" this and bowing that, and I amused him by calling my relatives the most noble and ancient House of Gits. I think he likes me.  
  
I also think he's getting food from someone nearby. There was a hint of human scent around him.  
  
\- Snuffles  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Snuffles -  
  
ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR RUDDY MIND?! WHAT IF IT HAD BEEN AN ANIMAGUS?!  
  
Snuffles, Ron's mostly right: what if the kitsune tells someone -- like that someone he's possibly getting food from -- about you?! That warrant's still out in both the wizard AND Muggle worlds for your arrest! Do you WANT to go back?  
  
... Harry's just gone stomping upstairs. I think he's half-convinced you're going to get caught and Kissed. I'll go try to calm him down.  
  
\- Hermione  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry and guys -  
  
It's okay, really. He asked why I was out playing hermit, so I told him, and he promised to keep quiet. Kitsune can't break promises, it's magical and makes them sick.  
  
Plus, he's a magical creature. You can't be an Animagus for a magical creature (you have no idea how upset I was to discover this. A magical canine prankster, and I couldn't be one? I was inconsolable for days). There are all sorts of crazy side effects -- think about it. How would a werewolf animagus work? Or a phoenix... people would spontaneously combust! You'd also burn if you tried a dragon -- a wizard can't copy the magic that protects their insides from their fire.  
  
I'll be fine, Harry. I promise. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad?  
  
\- Snuffles  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Snuffles -  
  
Don't EVER do something stupid like that again. If you get yourself caught I will hunt you down and drag you back by your TAIL.  
  
\- Harry  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Snuffles -  
  
What was the exact wording of the promise? And does that magically-binding promise hold true for youko?  
  
\- Hermione  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hermione -  
  
"I will not tell any human of your location, then."  
  
Er... what's a youko?  
  
\- Snuffles  
  
P.S. - Tell me when he's calmed down? He threatened my poor tail!  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Snuffles -  
  
That's a bit suspisciously worded, I think. "Not human" covers a lot of beings that are perfectly capable of talking to the Ministry, like goblins and House Elves.  
  
A youko is a DEMON kitsune! They're a whole lot rarer than regular kitsune in this dimension, but they're a whole lot more dangerous! They play pranks and games like kitsune, but they cheat! You should see what it says in A Complete Prehistory of the Universe, Abridged, some of their tricks are horrible.  
  
You can tell the difference between youko and kitsune in two ways:  
  
1\. They trick you and you die.  
  
2\. You see them in a human form. A youko will be man-shaped, but keep their inhuman eye color, ears, and one of their tails, while a kitsune will have a beautiful, fully-human, female or feminine form with a fox's shadow.  
  
... I think I'd better check some of our transfer students with a light spell tomorrow.  
  
\- Hermione  
  
P.S. - Don't drag me into this!  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hermione -  
  
It's more a dialect issue, I think.  
  
Well, I'm alive, so it must've been a kitsune. Lucky me.  
  
How did the testing go?  
  
\- Snuffles  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Snuffles -  
  
If you say so...  
  
They all passed -- no fox-shadows. Still seems strange, though... and I was so SURE... but they're all human.  
  
\- Hermione  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Snuffles -  
  
I'm sorry.  
  
If you get yourself caught, I'll try to avoid using your tail when I drag you back. Okay?  
  
\- Harry  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry -  
  
That is NOT okay. You are NOT to go risking your neck!  
  
\- Snuffles  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Snuffles -  
  
I won't have to if you don't get caught. So don't.  
  
\- Harry  
  
P.S. - we're playing Hufflepuff tomorrow, if you want to come.  
  



	39. Toil and Trouble

  
  
  
The remainder of February flew by, as the short month tended to do, and March sprang upon the school with massive storms.  
  
As his Housemates panicked, the deadlines for various papers and projects suddenly far too close, Kurama began compiling research for a somewhat different project. Scroll after scroll of notes filled his Devil's Snare, squirreled away in the nooks and crannies of his bed, under the mattress, crammed next to the head- and footboards, and tucked up in the canopy.  
  
Tonight, with half his roommates at practice, and the other two in the library finishing Transfiguration essays, Kurama had most of these scrolls out. He had lists of people, of powers, of their strengths; a horrifyingly complex chart of social relationships, so intricate it had a 3D charm on it just so it could be looked at; and a map, charmed to flick from full-color terrain to various simpler diagrams.  
  
Unknown opponents could be fun. Diligent research and planning was better, if you had enough information. (Hence the long lists -- Kurama did not believe in "one line per person". A page per person was barely enough.)  
  
He tugged the map a bit closer, and tapped the icon to show the route. It was fairly straightforward, he already knew, but he hadn't memorized the placement of the traps. Let's see... mostly in the hollows, with just... three in the thicker parts of the woods. Which could be good, but... On one hand, having them in the clearings gave victims a chance to dodge, and the way the clearings tended to be small hollows gave a full view of the trap from the surrounding rim. On the other hand, that same ridge blocked the view until you were almost on top of the trap.  
  
The final leg of the route was notably devoid of traps or illusions of any sort. Kurama switched the map back to full terrain. There was a single, large clearing, surrounded by dense undergrowth and trees with a thick canopy. It was perfect for a showdown... if he could do this.  
  
He pulled seeds from his hair, dropping them on the bed between the parchments. _Assuming I find a way to double myself, what can I use?_ he mused, poking the seeds in small circles before him. _Nothing lethal, obviously. Nothing that takes too much power... I have a lot of people to deal with. Certainly nothing that's obviously a plant; I'm supposed to be fixing my cover, not blowing it._  
  
 _Reikai gemflower? No, Draco would try to wrest control from me._  
  
 _Sleepshroom? Knock them out for a week. Oh, yes, Kurama, that's just brilliant,_ he thought sarcastically.  
  
 _Devil's Snare? With that many opponents, I'd be too distracted keeping it under control before I was halfway through. And it's unmistakeably a plant._  
  
Infierno Moss -- a little weak to hold stronger opponents, but workable. Spidervine -- annoyingly sticky, but otherwise... sickly white, thick and strong, slightly elastic. And perhaps he could use... hm, did he have any tetsuburu? It was almost indistinguishable from iron; he'd tricked his way into the estates of otherwise-paranoid rich folk on a few occasions, "sold" to them while wearing intricate manacles and chains that had never seen a smithy.  
  
Kurama smirked. And then he'd let his gang in, and they'd stolen everything that hadn't been nailed down, and killed the most offensive of the inhabitants...  
  
He shook his head. Focus, Kurama. Back to work.  
  
Lists. Maps. Diagrams. Strategies. And underlying it all, a single, worrisome, unanswered question.  
  
 _How am I supposed to be in two places at once?!_  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"So," Draco said, trying for nonchalance -- or, failing that, idle curiosity. "I never asked. What exactly do you do with your ice?" Besides fill the icebox with weird shapes?  
  
Yukina traced a finger in small circles on the top of her current cube, leaving a tracery of whirls over the flat surface. "Well..." she murmured. "I sculpt. I practice. I help cool the temple in the summer..." she trailed off, thinking.  
  
Figures, Draco thought. That is so stupid. "So you can't... I don't know..." He took a wild guess. "... freeze people?"  
  
Yukina flinched. "I..." she began, stopped. "... it's not... impossible."  
  
Draco kept his cool (and wasn't that a bad joke) with considerable effort. She's not useless -- not entirely -- in and of her own powers she's not useless after all--! "Really," he murmured.  
  
"No... but I wouldn't...! I would neve--" she broke off mid-word, and flushed guiltily. "I wouldn't," she repeated more quietly.  
  
That's experience speaking, Draco thought with a spark of glee. That's -- she's done something. Frozen someone. Killed?  
  
"Yukina..." he murmured, bringing out his most sympathetic bleeding-heart attitude (it was fairly rusty, having not been used since he was a small child wringing cookies out of the Parkinsons' human chef). He deliberately shifted his crystal slightly closer to him in a show of worry. "I'm your student." He barely managed to keep from choking on the word. "I need to know I can trust you -- don't you trust me?"  
  
She bit her lip. "Draco... I..."  
  
Come on, fall for it, you stupid Hufflepuff. The Dark Lord's going to want progress by Easter -- give me something to work with! He upped the intensity of his 'poor little worried sympathy' expression.  
  
It backfired. Yukina seemed to almost shut down, a shell of inscrutablity blocking whatever progress Draco had made. "I think that's enough for the day," she finished tonelessly.  
  
Bloody--! "But--!"  
  
"Please," Yukina said. "I will see you next week."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hiei -- for once -- sat curled up on the couch of the nearly-empty common room, a cup of hot cider in one hand and a book on his lap. A fire crackled in the fireplace ten feet away; the nearest he'd been able to get to the damn thing for six weeks without Lavender and Parvati all but pouncing him to ask if he was having visions. Even his stunt with their stupid, creepy valentines hadn't deterred them.  
  
Fortunately, they were Not Here, and he was, and he was damn well going to take advantage of the fact to sit near his element for a change. Turning the page, he took another drink of the cider (a strange drink; thinner than pumpkin juice, sweeter than tea, and sharp unlike chocolate... he wasn't quite sure yet if he liked it), and slowly scanned the words.  
  
"Granger, what's 'forsooth'?" he called out.  
  
Across the room, at the corner of Hiei's vision, the familiar shape of Hermione's hair didn't waver. "'Indeed'," she answered, not looking up from her scroll. "Just ignore it. I do."  
  
This author was a prat, Hiei decided. There were no less than a dozen repeats of the useless word over the page.  
  
Pink fluttered off to the side, and Hiei glanced up to see the Fat Lady peering from the portrait over the fireplace. Her gaze flicked over the room, then landed on him. "Is Hiei Jaganshi here?" she asked.  
  
Hiei raised an eyebrow. "I'm him."  
  
"Oh! So you are. That hair of yours--" she paused, switched subjects. "There's a girl asking for you."  
  
"I'm not here," Hiei said flatly.  
  
Hermione hastily called out, "Who is it?"  
  
The Fat Lady paused, almost out of the frame. "A little Hufflepuff girl... the teal-haired one."  
  
Yukina? Hiei pushed his book off his lap and set his cup down, swinging off the couch. What's she doing here? he thought as he strode across the room. I thought she was tutoring that Malfoy brat. He shoved open the portrait door, and came face-to-face with his sister, quickly taking in her too-pale face, eyes a shade too wide, the tiny tremor in her hands. "Inside," he ordered, pulling her gently into the common room. "Granger, go away."  
  
Hermione glanced at them. "Maybe you should take her up to your room," she suggested, with surprising tact. "It'll get crowded in here soon."  
  
Nodding, Hiei led Yukina up the stairs to the boys' dorms. Once inside, he locked the door -- just in case Hermione didn't manage to stop his all roommates from coming upstairs --, then deactivated his wards and pressed her to sit on the bed. "What did Malfoy do?" he asked gruffly.  
  
Yukina's head snapped up, her eyes flying wider. "Nothing! It's-- it's my fault..." Hiei seriously doubted that. She looked down and continued, more quietly, "I... I upset him. I think I frightened him-- he doesn't trust me. Not that I expect him to, not like that, but... not as a teacher or... or..."  
  
"Yukina," Hiei said, "tell me what happened."  
  
A pause, and his sister took a deep, calming breath. "We were working. Practicing. And out of nowhere he asked me if I could... could freeze people. I don't know what brought it on -- I suppose he's been worried about it for a very long time -- but... but... I couldn't just LIE!"  
  
Hiei bit back the observation that she should've, and waited for her to continue.  
  
"And... I... I haven't killed, but..." She bit her lip. "But I've had to... to... it was horrible! I wouldn't--! I won't!" Another pause. "But he needs to know to trust me enough... and... I couldn't tell him, and so I offended him horribly..."  
  
Of course you did, by not giving him enough to blackmail you with, Hiei thought sourly. "And you came to me," he finished, incredulous.  
  
She didn't seem to notice, nodding miserably. "You and Kurama know what it's like... there. Off the Glacier, you can't go so much as a kilometer without being attacked, sometimes. They wouldn't understand..."  
  
"No. They wouldn't," Hiei agreed. Yuusuke might understand, maybe, and Botan and Genkai, of course, but Keiko definitely wouldn't, and Kuwabara... no. The idea was too complex for his pea-sized brain. Yukina was kind and somewhat oblivious, but coming from Makai, there was no way she was blood-innocent; she had to at least have put up something of a fight when she was captured by the teargem dealer.  
  
Yukina nodded, and added, more softly, "and... you're like my brother." Hiei jolted in shock. "If it's not too much of an imposition," she added hastily.  
  
Hiei could only gape at her.  
  
The pause stretched into uncomfortable silence. "Hiei? It..." Yukina bit her lip, released it, "it isn't, is it?"  
  
Say something, dammit! "No," he managed. "It's... fine." Now what? he wondered, as Yukina toyed with a wrinkle in her skirt, refusing -- or unable -- to meet his eyes.  
  
He'd seen human siblings a number of times since coming to Ningenkai, and far more often since he'd arrived at Hogwarts: the Patils, the Creeveys, the Weasleys. Granted, he'd never really seen any of them upset like this, except at a considerable distance, but...  
  
Abruptly, he stepped forward, put a hand between Yukina's shoulders, and tugged her to rest her head against his chest.  
  
"Oniisan--?!" she asked, voice muffled against his shirt.  
  
"I think this is what the humans do," he answered.  
  
"Oh." She turned her head to speak more clearly. "What do I do?"  
  
Hiei didn't shrug; it would dislodge Yukina if he did. "Whatever you feel comfortable with, I guess."  
  
"Oh."  
  
He waited, and slowly, her hands lifted to clutch at his shirt. She buried her face back against his shoulder, let out a shuddering breath, and began to whimper tearlessly against him.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
It seemed the rain refused to stop, as March wore on. The grounds around the school became little better than a quagmire; students returned from Quidditch practice, Care of Magical Creatures, and (for the youngest years) flying, liberally spattered in frigid mud. Filch could be heard throwing screaming fits up to six times a day, and detentions ran rampant through the student body. Even Hermione got one, when Filch caught a lump of mud in the corridor that -- when hosed down, yowling -- turned out to be Crookshanks.  
  
She'd gone to serve that detention now, as Harry and Ron holed up in their dorm room, hiding from the wrath of Filch and the general gloom of the Hogwarts population. In Genkai's infinite wisdom, Ron had yet another several rounds of chess as homework -- this time, against his brothers. So they lounged on Ron's bed, Fred playing this round and George...  
  
"I saw that, George," Ron said, his hand on his chesspiece. "Pranks and jokes are cheating."  
  
"Ronniekins! What sort of people--"  
  
"--do you take us for? We would never cheat--"  
  
"--and get caught." George waggled a brightly-wrapped candy at Ron. "I'm just bored. Guess what this one does?"  
  
Ron moved his bishop. "Turns you into a prat?" George didn't have a chance to reply, before Ron continued, "Oh, wait, you must've had some when you were babies, then."  
  
The twins clutched hands to their chests and mock-swooned in stereo (Fred having to roll over, since he was already on his stomach). "Dearest little brother--!"  
  
"Only little brother," Ron corrected.  
  
"--How could you?"  
  
"We're hurt!"  
  
"Mortally wounded!"  
  
"Struck to the quick!"  
  
Ron snorted. "Your turn, Fred."  
  
Fred, upside-down and still pantomiming 'mortal wounding', reached for a pawn and tapped it to capture Ron's bishop. "Check."  
  
Harry sat up, blinking. I couldn't have heard that right! But under his eyes, Ron captured the pawn with his rook, and announced, "Check and checkmate."  
  
The twins stared at the board a moment, then Fred made a face. "How'd we miss that?"  
  
"Too busy trying to distract me, I'd guess," Ron answered, grinning. "Another round?"  
  
George pushed Fred aside, plopping into his twin's spot as Fred flailed and narrowly missed falling off the bed. "Bring it on!"  
  
As Fred pulled himself out of danger of falling, and shoved George, Harry brought Nagini out from his drawer and opened her box. Ron wasn't the only one who should be practicing, really... and if the twins were going to use distraction tactics, so could he. He propped the box on its side, facing the game so Nagini could see.  
  
" _Ever seen a two-tail game_?" he asked her.  
  
" _Games..._?" she asked, waking.  
  
Ron looked up from the twins' antics. "Bloody hell, Harry--!"  
  
Harry put on his most innocent expression. "You aren't the only one that needs to practice."  
  
" _Master? Where are the mice?"_  
  
One of the twins glanced up, finally noticing the hissing, and yelped, falling off the bed. The other -- Fred, Harry realized after a moment -- peered down at the fallen boy. "What?" he asked.  
  
George scrambled to his knees to peer over the mattress and chessboard at Harry, eyes lighting up. "The Heir of Slytherin speaks!"  
  
"What?"  
  
Fred and Ron stared at him as if he was a lunatic, but George ignored them. "Do it again, Harry? Pleeeeeease?"  
  
" _Master_?"  
  
Harry blinked. "Um... just a sec," he said quickly, turning back to Nagini. " _What mice?"_  
  
 _"The mice, Master! That you bite and throw!"_  
  
That was a game? Yuck! " _There are no mice in two-tail games_ ," Harry said flatly. His eyes flicked back to the Weasleys. Now Fred's expression matched George's, eyes gleaming with childish delight. "Do what again?" he asked.  
  
"The parseltongue!" the twins chorused.  
  
"It's bloody cool--"  
  
"--we didn't get to hear ANY back in fourth year--"  
  
"--what are you saying to it?"  
  
"Do you know how wicked evil you sound?"  
  
"Your voice gets all low--"  
  
"--and whispery--"  
  
"You two are off your bloody rocker," Ron muttered. George clambered back onto the bed and began resetting Ron's strange, almost-human pieces back on the board, eyes focused more on Nagini's box than the game. "Completely off," Ron added.  
  
"Don't tell us you don't think it's bloody awesome, too, Ronniekins," Fred said. "The only other chance you'd get to hear it would be at the wrong end of a Dark wizard's wand. Carpe diem and all that rot."  
  
"It would be You-Know-Who's wand, actually, and carpe your own diem. It's bloody creepy, sorry Harry."  
  
Harry had to agree with Ron, oddly enough. He couldn't really hear it, but just the idea that he was speaking Dark Evil Wizard stuff was bad enough... and he had the memory of the friendly python at the zoo. What did Ron have? A desperate jump into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue his sister, without even knowing whether or not she was alive to be saved.  
  
Bringing out Nagini had been a bad idea.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Another week, and the rain lessened to a constant drizzle, sometimes thinning to little more than mist, and sleeting in the night. The weary students trudged to and from class, huddling near any available fire and changing into dry clothes multiple times a day. A late-season cold started making the rounds, catching the school unawares and low on Pepper-Up Potion; Pomfrey cut the flu-dose in half and doled it out sparingly.  
  
The Slytherins got a disproportionate number of those doses, the sickness hitting their ranks the worst. Kurama knew exactly why, too: the dampness sank to the dungeons, sapping the humans' strength and encouraging mold and mildew to exacerbate their symptoms.  
  
 _Why didn't I think of bringing cold remedies?_ Kurama wondered, watching idly through his spyeye as Snape brewed more Pepper-Up in his lab. _I could have a thriving trade down here._ Two bunks away, Goyle sneezed miserably and turned over without waking.  _And I wouldn't have to listen to THAT all night. Ick._  
  
... _what should I bring?_ Curious, Kurama turned the lens on Snape's shelves. If he saw what Snape kept on hand, he'd have a better idea of what usually cropped up in a school. Somehow, Kurama doubted he'd be dealing with such obvious problems as "poisoned by venomous demon/demonic plant", or a sudden epidemic of Makai bloodpox.  
  
Slowly, he panned across the jars, eyes flicking from the words to the kanji subtitles for help. Veritaserum (truth-serum)... Wolfsbane (wolf-calm)... sleep potion... Skele-gro (bone-growth)... Pepper-up (health-improvement), Mandrake restorative (person-plant recovery) (Whatever that means, Kurama grumbled mentally), Draught of Peace (peace-potion), Doppelganger (body double)...  
  
Kurama blinked, stopping the spyeye and zooming in. But the label didn't change, and the kanji subtitle remained: Doppelganger potion.  
  
Body double potion.  
  
Oh, Inari, Kurama thought with relief. You are smiling upon me!  
  
He'd found the answer to his problem with Genkai's plan.  
  



	40. Quickening

  
  
Hiei woke with the distinct buzz of energy he associated with summoning the Kokuryuuha. A quick glance and a flex of his fist told him his arm-wardings were intact and in place, though, and on the heels of that thought came recognition.  
  
March 20th. The equinox.  
  
He shoved his bedclothes away and leapt silently to the floor, crouching in uncontrollable wariness for all of half a second (all the bedcurtains closed; check for location and breathing patterns: Neville - awake, Harry - nightmare, everybody else - sleeping peacefully) before prowling to his trunk. In a flurry of speed he usually reserved for battle, he changed into day clothes, darted to the window, and flung it open.  
  
Cool, brisk night air slapped him in the face, and below him, he could see the castle roofs, just visible under a crescent-sliver of a moon and the barely-perceptible lightening of the sky in the east.  
  
The power coursing through Hiei nudged urgently, and he leapt from the window into the new day.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Groaning, his scar burning, Harry opened his eyes to a blur of reddish gloom: his curtained bed, too bright to be night and too dim to be time to get up yet. The dream again... smoldering ruins of a barn, the stench of burnt eggs and animals and other things, the circle...  
  
The symbols!  
  
Harry flopped over, batting a hand past his bedcurtains and scrabbling for his nightstand drawer, where he'd kept a sheet of parchment and a pencil since February. He left the curtain open for light, and, squinting, began to hastily sketch the symbols he'd seen in Voldemort's spell.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
His trouser cuffs, soaked with frigid dew, slapped wetly against Kurama's ankles as he jogged up the steps into the school. Two hours he'd been running already under the slowly-brightening sky, in the shadow of the mountains to the east; he'd leapt a stream, barely refrained from climbing rocks and trees, and accidentally added another inch of girth to the pumpkins in Hagrid's garden.  
  
Slightly more than an hour ago, he'd noticed a single spark of power, startlingly similar to his own and shining like a tiny, sputtering sun, flickering in agitated circles in Gryffindor Tower. Neville, awake and pacing -- the stairs and the common room, it seemed. But that bright spark began to descend towards the Great Hall, all but calling Kurama to return to the castle for breakfast.  
  
Don't need food...  
  
But Neville needed him today.  
  
Kurama turned the corner, and found the boy at the edge of a flood of hungry teenagers. He fell in to walk next to Neville, ignoring the few curious glances cast their way.  
  
"So... Today's your first," he said, almost cheerfully. (He couldn't help it. Even this early, the magic pushed his mood towards jubilance.) "Going to take it alone, or would you care to go for a run with me?"  
  
"We've got classes," Neville answered.  
  
Classes--? Feh! He can't be serious.  
  
"Genkai would give us a note." If only to make sure she didn't have see the consequences of having a stir-crazy fox around. "We don't have to go."  
  
Neville pointedly stared straight ahead -- afraid to be talked into going along with Kurama, most likely. "I am."  
  
Kurama bit his lip. "... that's not really a very good idea, Neville." Neville shrugged, and Kurama pressed on. "Are you sure? Things'll be a lot more pleasant if you just skip today."  
  
"No."  
  
"They will." Because you're struggling already. How will you manage sitting around for the next eight hours?  
  
"No."  
  
If I'd known he would grow a little backbone--! Of all the times for him to defy me, why does it have to be NOW? "Skip," he ordered.  
  
"No."  
  
"Skip."  
  
"No."  
  
"Skip."  
  
"NO."  
  
"Neville..."  
  
"It's my magic, and my choice," Neville said firmly. "I'm. Going. To. Class."  
  
That tone... Kurama stopped in the corridor, catching Neville's sleeve. The Gryffindor paused at the tug and instinctively glanced back. He caught himself almost immediately and looked away again, but Kurama had seen all he needed to.  
  
His mind's made up, and it shines in his eyes, just like with Yuusuke, Kuwabara, Hiei, even Yukina... Especially Kuwabara. I could talk at him for hours -- which we don't have -- and get exactly nowhere. "Mattaku..." Kurama muttered. "You are such a Gryffindor."  
  
Neville's glance snapped back to Kurama, eyes slightly wide.  
  
"Hey... HEY!" A voice interrupted them. Mentally, Kurama sighed. Seamus Finnigan, pushing through the crowd. "You! Slytherin! Back off!"  
  
Kurama let go of Neville's sleeve with a wry half-smile. "If I were you, I'd avoid eating anything sugary or caffeinated today. They won't help you stay calm in class."  
  
"Sod off!" Seamus shouted, pushing past another student.  
  
Quickly, Kurama ducked into the crowd, paying attention just long enough to hear Seamus asking Neville what 'that Slytherin' had been doing to him.  
  
Prejudiced bastard. I hate this House.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The Hufflepuff dorm windows were deeply recessed in the narrow end of the cove: a formation almost like a slot or a tiny canyon, with thick chunks of crystal embedded in the walls, angled to draw daylight down and shine it into the rooms. The slot was even easier to climb than the stone outside the Slytherin windows, with ivy growing prettily all down both sides and the broad crystals sticking out almost like stairsteps.  
  
It had been disgustingly easy for Hiei to reach Yukina's window, although he'd needed to start his climb from almost the center of the school. Helga Hufflepuff must have considered that security enough. He'd waited outside the window, unnoticed, listening to the high-pitched chatter and clatter of the occupants as they got ready for the day.  
  
After the girls left, perky as only morning people could be, Hiei pushed the (unlocked) window open, and slipped through into the cheery room. The place was a blinding mass of whitewashed walls, pale furniture, mirrors, sunny yellow and white fabrics, and the debris of five busy teenage girls: stuffed animals, cosmetics, shoes, hair things, inexpensive jewelry in flowery boxes, nightgowns tossed on unmade beds, wizarding posters waving and beaming, a bra half-kicked under a nightstand...  
  
And I thought MY roommates were messy.  
  
In the far corner, near the door, a single bed still had its curtains closed. Hiei made his way to it, snatching a low-backed chair from a vanity as he passed, and gently tugged the curtain back. Yukina lay sleeping, her unconscious expression fallen into a mask she could only have learned at the hands of the teargem dealer. Looking more closely, though, Hiei could see she was a shade too pale, and her skin was slightly damp. In humans -- if Kurama's human form was anything to judge by -- this would've probably meant the blanket was too thick. In Yukina, though, it could only mean that she was starting to lose her cool. Literally.  
  
"Yukina..." he murmured, almost reaching out to brush her bangs aside.  
  
His sister slept on, oblivious.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kippers and eggs, bacon and toast, pumpkin juice, marmalade... Rice and grilled fish, little yellow disks of pickles and green-black papery seaweed, green tea and soup... And the usual noise of several hundred teenagers, in the jostling mass known as "breakfast at Hogwarts".  
  
"Hey, Harry, what's a good Muggle way to get killed?" Ron asked, pulling out his Divination homework.  
  
"Electrocution?"  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Death by electricity."  
  
Ron paused with his quill hovering over the page. "Ekeltricity can kill you?"  
  
"Yup." Harry wasn't quite sure how much was needed, but Trelawney certainly wouldn't either. As Ron jotted that near the bottom of his homework, Harry brought out his parchment from that morning. "It happened again, Hermione," he said quietly, offering her the folded sheet.  
  
She took it, saying, "Shouldn't you be giving this to Dumbledore?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "The more the merrier. And you can make a copy, can't you?"  
  
"Yes, yes, of course," she replied absently, scanning the list of symbols. "Is this all of them?  
  
She knows me too well. "Most of those are the ones I didn't recognize," Harry answered. "Why would I mark down all the ones I did know?"  
  
Hermione sighed. "So that I would know they were there in the first place?" Oh, Harry thought. Good point. "What were the others?"  
  
"Astrological symbols," Harry said. On a slightly wicked impulse, he added, "Like in Divination."  
  
Hermione made a face. "Well, mark them down," she muttered, handing him back the parchment. "You never know what might be--" she cringed "--useful."  
  
Harry couldn't resist. "Even Trelawney's class?"  
  
She twitched like she'd just bit into a particularly acidic lemon. "I didn't say that...!"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hiei paced the fluffy white carpet of Yukina's dorm as the sun inched higher in the sky. Step, step, step, step, turn. Step, step, step, step, turn. Tap toe of boot against the patch of stone between two rugs, glance at Yukina sitting dazedly in the window seat, turn. Eye Yukina behind self in mirror, turn. Step, step, step, step, turn.  
  
On this loop, he paused by the window itself, slipping a hand under Yukina's thick fall of hair to check the damp cloth he'd set against the back of her neck. Warm and drying: he took it away and dunked it into a bowl of water on the nearest nightstand.  
  
"...'niisan..."  
  
Hiei nearly dropped the cloth. The faintly whispered word was the first Yukina had spoken since she'd woken up. But he took a firm grip on his tightly-strung nerves, and managed to calmly answer, "Yes?"  
  
"Sorry..." she murmured with some effort. "This is hurting you. Trapped in here with me."  
  
"I'm fine." He wrang most of the water out of the cloth, so it wouldn't drip too badly, and flicked an ice cube into it.  
  
"Shouldn't have to..." she whispered, as he carefully brushed her ponytail aside and replaced the cool cloth.  
  
"May as well," he countered sharply.  
  
She fell silent for a long moment, and he went back to pacing. Then... "Kazuma could."  
  
Hiei spun sharply on his heel, repressing a hiss. He is not going to sit with you in your nightgown! But the sight of his sister, her head bowed sadly and eyes glazed, doused the words and the fury. She wants Kuwabara.  
  
His foot tapped impatiently on the rug, not entirely of his own volition, and he abruptly realized, I'm driving her nuts. She's just too nice to actually say it.  
  
But that doesn't mean I have to like it.  
  
"I'll send Botan down to get you dressed and to the Hospital Wing," Hiei grumbled sourly. "He can sit with you there."  
  
And then I'll go pummel the living daylights out of something.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Outside, Kurama ran along the shore of the lake, occasionally spinning to kick broad arcs of chilly water into the air. His shoes and socks, both grass-stained and wet, lay somewhere in a patch of reeds near the Quidditch pitch; his trousers were rolled to the knee and soaked another inch higher.  
  
He didn't care. Power coursed from the mud through his bare feet, as if they were roots and he was one of the millions of plants drawing on the day. Quickening. Heady at best, intoxicating at worst. And nothing, nothing, nothing to draw me away, shunbun no hi or worrying mother, demons distractions nothing nothing nothing... He kicked up another spray of water, watching it fall in an arc of diamond brilliance.  
  
An entirely different power flared on the far side of the ridge between Kurama and the path to Hogsmeade; it rang of blazing speed and tightly-packed fury.  
  
Hiei.  
  
Kurama let his leg fall, catching himself back on both feet with a splash. What am I doing? It was much too early to be giving in to the magic so completely -- although there was really no reason not to, when one was alone. But he wasn't.  
  
On second thought, forget what I'm doing -- what is he doing? Curious, Kurama left the lake's edge, shaking water from his feet and clambering past the steep patch of ground between him and the fire demon. Several minutes and a scraped knuckle later, he skidded to a stop behind a standing stone in the hillside.  
  
A few meters away, a second standing stone had fallen to rest longways on the ground -- decades or centuries ago, guessing from the weathering and mossy patterns on it. Hiei flickered in random circles around it, kicking and punching sporadically at a speed that was almost too fast for Kurama to see. A chip flew from one punch, flecked with blood -- a tiny cut appeared on Hiei's hand a second later. Kurama decided then to intervene.  
  
"You're destroying an ancient archeological treasure," Kurama commented, kneeling and resting his chin on his hand. "Why?"  
  
Hiei stopped. "There are a million of the bloody things here," he snarled, not answering the question.  
  
"True." But it belonged to the people, whether they cared or not; it was an object of their history, their identity. Hiei of all people should know the value of that. "Why are you out here? I thought you were watching your sister."  
  
Hiei hissed.  
  
"Ah... I see," Kurama murmured, not pressing the topic. If it was a sore point with Hiei... "Care to spar, then?" Hiei shot him a wary glare. "The usual rules, no penalties or stakes?"  
  
"... as long as we're clear this time that shrinking my bokken is cheating."  
  
Kurama made a face. "Fine, fine..."  
  
"I'll get my blade." Hiei turned and headed back up to the school.  
  
Grinning, Kurama turned as well, only to feel the scratchy tickle of grass under his feet.  
  
Oh, hell, I forgot about my shoes...!  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The Wednesday Transfiguration lesson had been turning owls into opera glasses. Hermione's, unsurprisingly, had three different magnification settings, a delicate golden chain, and matching filigree over mahogany woodwork. Harry's were of a plain, nubbly black metal, and the lens strengths didn't match. Ron's retained a spotted owl pattern.  
  
"I'm sure the metal was uneven," Hermione moaned at lunch, as they filled their plates with hamburgers and chips. Two seats down, Neville tapped his silverware against his plate in a rapid, syncopated beat. "Didn't you see? It was terribly lumpy in spots -- oh, I'm terrible with brasswork! Do you think she'll dock points? I should have stuck to a less baroque pattern--"  
  
"Did you figure out anything about those symbols?" Ron asked quickly.  
  
Thank you! Harry thought with considerable relief. He'd been on the verge of just tuning her out, but distracting her worked just as well.  
  
"Not a thing, yet," Hermione groused, surreptitiously flicking her wand to break Neville's grip on the fork. It went clattering to the ground. "But I haven't had a chance to look ahead in my Ancient Runes book." Aggravatingly, Neville began tapping again, this time with his spoon. "Although it's really very strange, these symbols don't look related to any I've ever seen... you can tell with some writings, you know, like Greek and the modern alphabet..."  
  
On second thought, tuning her out would've been a better idea.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Minamino had vanished sometime before dawn, and hadn't shown up to any classes. He'd also not appeared for breakfast, and now for lunch. When Minamino missed meals, it was a good bet that Jaganshi was gone too; Draco carefully scanned the Gryffindor table.  
  
And what do you know, he's not there.  
  
... neither is Kuwabara.  
  
Who else is missing?  
  
Saint Potter's trio was intact. All the familiar-and-detested faces of the Gryffindor fifth-years were present, except Jaganshi and Kuwabara. The less-familiar, but equally detestable, Gryffindors in the other years were also present.  
  
Of the next table, the Hufflepuffs, the lower-years were accounted for... the fourths... and there in the fifths, only one head of blue hair. Koorime was missing.  
  
The Ravenclaws -- all present and accounted for.  
  
Interesting... Draco thought, rolling the word in his mind. Those are the four that Voldemort is most interested in, and they're all missing. And they're the only ones who are.  
  
The question is... why?  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Later, Kurama sped across the grounds of Hogwarts, flicking his thornless practice whip in wide arcs, chasing after a dark blur. "Hiei, you rat, no fair running away!" he yelled. "Are we sparring or playing tag?!"  
  
The blur snapped into reverse, and Kurama's arm jerked up into a flurry of shielding moves, blocking dozens of blows from Hiei's wooden sword.  
  
"Since when did either of us play fair?" Hiei's voice echoed in a dizzying circle, the fire demon himself moving too fast for the sound to pinpoint his exact location.  
  
If that's the way you want to play it, I'm game. On the next pass, Kurama let the tip of his vine loop around the sword, and he jerked. It went flying into the lake, and Kurama smirked... then dropped into a roll and snapped his whip back into play, as Hiei ignored the loss of the practice blade and kicked past Kurama's defenses, landing a glancing blow on Kurama's forearm.  
  
"OW!" Kurama yelped, more from surprise than actual pain.  
  
"Tag, you're it."  
  
"Baka!!"  
  
"Save your breath for fighting, fox."  
  
"Don't call me that!" Kurama hissed, though there was no one within earshot. He snagged Hiei's wrist, and yanked viciously even as the whip dissolved to ashes. Hiei crashed into the ground, and Kurama quickly caught Hiei's ankles with the grass and snapped the whip again.  
  
Hiei tried to leap away, toppling with a startled yelp. His youki flared, burning both whip and grass, leaving another gray line to show where he would've been bisected had he been anyone else. "No fair tying me down!" he yelled, flipping to his feet.  
  
"Since when did either of us play fair?" Kurama asked sweetly, throwing Hiei's words back at him. Hiei growled, but the gleam in his eyes was far from angry. Kurama watched, waiting for that first twitch, the tiny flex of muscles that would signal the beginning of Hiei's next attack...  
  
Power exploded high above, somewhere inside the school, sending both of them staggering.  
  
"What the hell--!"  
  
"Neville..." Kurama breathed, breaking into a dead run. It's -- oh, shimatta, it's Herbology right now, of COURSE he lost control -- pleasepleaseplease don't be something too dangerous today, Neville will shut right back down if he hurts someone--!  
  
Kurama followed the raging swirl of power to Greenhouse 8, pushing open the door and promptly breathing in a lungful of pollen. He coughed once, his vision swimming into technicolor and rainbow sparkles (what crazy plant is this?!), and promptly swept his own power out to latch onto the shimmering haze of pollen in the glass building. (Self-diagnosis: overstimulating the vision cortex in the brain--) He pulled, twisting magic like a swath of fabric (--effects being somewhat dulled by mature human biochemistry--), forcing the pollen to fly towards him. Holding out his hand (--conclusion: brightens vision, likely hallucinogenic to anyone under the age of, oh, 15 or so), Kurama directed the swirl to center around his palm. It took a matter of seconds.  
  
"Professor?" he asked perfunctorily, scanning the room as the air cleared. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt -- I felt the explosion. Is everyone all right?" He didn't pay any attention to the answer; he was looking for Neville.  
  
There, in the back.  
  
The boy knelt next to a tubful of water, his arms immersed to the elbow. He and two other students -- Dean Thomas and Ernie MacMillian -- were locked in place by a twisted net of water lilies, dripping blossoms that spat pollen cheerily into the air. Kurama stepped past the other students, absently noticing more water lily vines looped tightly around the legs of those farther from the door, and crouched next to Neville, still pulling pollen into the globe around his hand.  
  
"Hey, there," Kurama said gently, ignoring all the other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs eyeing him suspiciously. Neville stared at him, wide eyes flicking from Kurama's face to the globe of swirling gold pollen. "Things get a little out of hand?"  
  
Neville bit his lip, shame-faced, and glanced away.  
  
"It happens to all of us," Kurama assured him, smiling ruefully. "Remind me to tell you about the time I accidentally turned a temple building back into a tree, with myself and all the priests stuck in the branches." That got Neville meeting his eyes again. "Now, then. This is hardly a disaster -- you'll have no trouble fixing it yourself." A flare of worry in Neville's gaze. "It's nothing you've never done before. Just feel for your power in the vines, and pull."  
  
Slowly, Kurama felt Neville reach magically for the excess power in the plants, and start tugging at it. The flowers closed, the leaves retracting, and the vines began to shrink and unravel. "Gently, now. Don't want them to tangle."  
  
Behind him, a student kicked loose, and then another, and another; Kurama heard them stumbling free, felt their nervous stares on his back. Another, and another... Neville bit his lip. "You won't have to hold it long, Neville," Kurama murmured. "We can take two minutes outside for you to let it go, and then you can finish your classes." Ernie jerked free. "Or I can still get you included on my note." Dean pulled the last few shrinking loops from his wrist, then turned to help loosen Neville's. "It's your decision," Kurama finished.  
  
Neville crumpled, tense, and Kurama hastily helped him to his feet. "Outside, then. Professor, mind if I borrow Longbottom for a second thank you--" He guided his student out the door, across the courtyard, and through the nearest gate to the outside, then pushed Neville to his knees, hands on a patch of grass. Quickly, Kurama braced himself. "Let go now."  
  
A second explosion of power sent the grass shooting a meter high, in an arc from Neville to the Forbidden Forest. Kurama suppressed a slightly impressed whistle, and merely smiled down at the dazed boy.  
  
"Feel better now?" he asked.  
  
"... yes?"  
  
"Good," Kurama murmured.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama led Neville from the greenhouse, and the class burst into whispers.  
  
"Neville did THAT?"  
  
"Did you see what Minamino did with the pollen?!"  
  
"Did you see Minamino TOOK the pollen?"  
  
"He's going to poison the firsts, just you watch--"  
  
"Even a Slytherin couldn't be that evil!"  
  
"He could, except he'd get caught."  
  
Harry tried to ignore the whispers (what a bunch of jerks, didn't they see how un-Slytherin-y Kurama was being to Neville?), turning resolutely to his friends. "Do you think he's okay?"  
  
"Neville or Minamino?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Neville," Harry answered. "Why?"  
  
"Because Minamino's been missing all day, until now... and he looked like he'd just been in a fight."  
  
Ron blinked. "He did, rather, didn't he. What do you suppose he was doing?"  
  
"Probably something evil," Seamus grumbled, next to them.  
  
Frowning, Dean pointed out, "He said something about having a note to be out, though."  
  
"Professor Genkai probably gave him a slip. She bends over backwards for the guy -- some Defense professor, completely blind to the fact that she's coddling a Dark wannabe, just turning one of us over to a Slytherin's hands--" Yuusuke dropped a hand on Seamus' shoulder and squeezed. "OW!"  
  
Despite Yuusuke's lack of height -- he was still one of the shortest people in the class -- he managed to loom over them. "I've heard a lot of shit just now," Yuusuke announced to the class at large, his voice flat and dangerous, "Anybody able to back it up?" Silence, as most of the class squirmed, unable to meet Yuusuke's gaze. "Any of ya ever seen my friend Kurama doing anything evil?" Yuusuke asked. "Cruel? Dark? No? Then SHUT. The FUCK. UP!"  
  
Stunned silence.  
  
Then... "Two points for language, Mr. Urameshi," Professor Sprout said weakly, her face red. "And five each from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff for... for... for maligning a fellow student and casting aspersions on his character!"  
  
Good show, Harry thought to himself. A few years too late, though, I think.  
  
Yuusuke snorted rudely. "It's a start," he muttered, as he turned away.  
  
The class nervously, silently, went back to work. A few minutes later, Neville slipped back into the room, humming absently, and looking far more relaxed and calm than he had all day.  
  
"Is everything all right now?" Professor Sprout asked quietly, her words rocketing through the otherwise silent greenhouse. Neville nodded happily. "Then back to work," the professor ordered, trying to pretend everything was normal.  
  
Nothing else exploded through the remainder of class.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The afternoon passed, Kurama barely noticing as he coaxed Neville's enhanced grass to share their excess with the rest of the lawn. He brought the patch Neville had affected back to its proper height, with less work than it would've taken with some plants; grass wasn't nearly as greedy with its own kind as, say, whomping willows were. This left the lawn thicker and more vibrant than it really should've been at that time of year.  
  
He ignored the bells of Hogwarts, ringing the last class of the day as he climbed the goals of the Quidditch pitch. He ignored them again, ringing for dinner as he coasted down the steep incline of a roof and leapt to the wall of a tower opposite, spinning a net of vines over his hands and feet and clinging to the wall, spider-like. Climbing up, around, and over, Kurama leapt again, and landed on the Great Hall, upside-down.  
  
I wonder... Another meter would put him right at the top of the easternmost window behind the teacher's dais. Kurama put a hand forward, then another, relaxed his muscles a bit to let gravity take control, and peered inside. His eyes flared wide at the sight. Those bastards--!  
  
A hand grabbed the back of his collar and yanked upwards. "If this is how you scouted a target," Hiei growled, "I'm amazed you lasted five seconds as a thief."  
  
Kurama ignored that. "They've got inarizushi tonight!" he whined.  
  
Hiei rolled his eyes, loosening his grip on Kurama's collar. "So?"  
  
"I want some!"  
  
"Then go get some."  
  
Kurama flipped right-side-up, grinning at the idea. "Hiei, you're brilliant!"  
  
"I am not; you're just not thinking," Hiei shot back, as Kurama started to scuttle away over the wall. "Why are you so much worse than I am tonight?!" Hiei shouted after him. But Kurama ignored the question -- he had no answer, anyway -- and twisted to land before a side door.  
  
Once inside, he hurried to a side door to the Hall, and snuck inside, making a beeline for the nearest table: Gryffindor.  
  
"Yo, Kurama," Yuusuke mumbled around a mouthful of food. "Hungry?" Kurama leaned between Harry and Neville, plucking a piece of sushi from the plate and taking a bite. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."  
  
Kurama politely swallowed before answering. "Actually, not at all. But it's inarizushi." And he popped the rest in his mouth and reached for another.  
  
Yuusuke snickered good-naturedly, completely understanding that Kurama, as a fox, couldn't resist the treat, while the nearest students blinked in bewilderment.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The Fat Lady stared unabashedly at Kurama, sadly finishing the last of his sushi and licking his fingers, as they passed.  
  
Neville glanced sidelong at her. "He's with me," he muttered.  
  
Inside Gryffindor Tower, most of the boys dispersed to the far corners of the common room. The girls, except Hermione, darted upstairs to change. All of them, except the fifth-years, cast wary glances Kurama's way and tried to whisper to their neighbors, only to be quickly hushed by the nearest fifth-year.  
  
Only a very small knot of people headed up the boys' stairs: Neville, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Yuusuke. Kurama lagged at the tail end of the small cluster, listening carefully; the common room broke out into whispers within seconds after he'd rounded the curve and was lost from view.  
  
"Odd..." he murmured. What was that? Guilt? Shame? From our favorite House of bold, reckless do-gooders? How very strange... they've never been ashamed of hating Slytherins before.  
  
Gee, who do I know in this House with an oddly-developed sense of justice and absolutely no ability to keep his mouth shut?  
  
"All right, Yuusuke." Kurama raised his voice to carry up the stairs. "What did you do?"  
  
Yuusuke paused on the 4th-year landing, casting blank looks back at Kurama. "Do? Dunno what you're talking about."  
  
Kurama allowed a tiny smirk out, pushing past him to start climbing again, this time backwards. "Innocence doesn't become you," he said cheerfully as they followed. "Let's hear it."  
  
"Er..."  
  
"Actually, let me rephrase that," Kurama said. "What did you do to make your Housemates feel too ashamed to openly hate me?"  
  
"Oh, that." Yuusuke grinned. "They started up all that anti-Slytherin crap after you took Neville outta Herbology, so I told 'em where to stick it."  
  
"You didn't--!" Kurama entered the dorm a step ahead of Yuusuke. (He took quick note of the Trio by Harry's bed, talking in quiet tones and examining a sheet of parchment, and Neville sorting his books and homework into neat little piles with white-knuckled hands -- he really needed to get the boy dropping his responsibility and outside running off all the extra energy.)  
  
Yuusuke promptly dumped his schoolbag on his bed and dug into his trunk for jeans and a T-shirt. "Sure I did. You think I'm going to just sit around while a buncha idiots go calling you Dark coz some Hat dumped you with the snakes?"  
  
Kurama chuckled. "Well, when you put it that way..."  
  
"Exactly. You're a great guy, Kurama," Yuusuke said, thumping the trunk closed. "Don't let some idiot gaijin tell ya different." As if I would? Kurama thought, as Yuusuke leaned forward a bit. The dark-haired boy's expression turned serious, and his next words were quieter. "And, um... look, man, are you all right? You've kinda been acting weird all day."  
  
Mentally, Kurama winced. "It's... nothing I can talk about." Yuusuke opened his mouth, and Kurama hastily added, "I'll be fine by morning, I promise. Please don't ask again, it's very rude."  
  
Yuusuke huffed. "Shit, man, does this--"  
  
"Yuusuke," Kurama interrupted sternly. "Don't. Ask. At. All."  
  
"Fine." Yuusuke grumbled. "I'm gonna go change."  
  
Kurama caught his arm before he stomped off. "... ask Genkai about the customs from my part of Japan, okay? I just can't." He couldn't possibly explain how asking for details inadvertently meant asking about weak points in Kurama's magic. I could spend hours boasting about my strengths and gloating, in true demon fashion, but my vulnerabilities... I'm sorry, Yuusuke, it's one thing to share this with Hiei, and another to tell Neville -- which is difficult enough, but he needs to know -- but it's just not proper to tell you!  
  
Yuusuke shook free, only slightly mollified, and stomped from the room. Kurama sighed, and turned to Neville. "Ready to go?"  
  
"Just let me get my Astronomy book, and change, and I'll be all set," Neville answered.  
  
"Astron... no. No, you can't have Astronomy tonight---?" Wait. Wednesday, Gryffindor... yes, Neville did. "You do. And you're going to go," Kurama sighed.  
  
Neville shrugged. "That's right."  
  
Kurama glanced at the Trio. "Would one of you mind bringing Neville's school things to Astronomy? Thanks." And he caught Neville's wrist in one hand, scooping up a casual robe in the other. "All this responsibility isn't healthy -- I trust your judgement, and you handled the day a lot better than I would've been able to, but you need to let go for a while," he huffed, as he pulled Neville from the room. But he had to give voice to one last exclamation as they left.  
  
"Classes on equinox. Honestly, this school has the worst timing--!"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The door fell shut behind Kurama and Neville, Kurama's last comment echoing, and Hermione abruptly yelped.  
  
"Oh!" Harry and Ron turned to her; it was a 'eureka, I got it!' sort of yelp. "Oh, I am so STUPID! It's been right in front of our faces!" she added, pulling a second sheet of parchment out from Harry's nightstand.  
  
"What's been?" Harry and Ron chorused.  
  
"Time!" she said, flicking her wand at the parchment. "Calendrus Circumspecto." A series of little numbers began marking themselves on the paper, appearing clockwise in a neat arc. "It's all about time -- the only reason to have astrological symbols in any sort of spell is to chart the night sky, you don't need to do that if you're casting a bunch of separate spells-- timing and patterns--" By now the arc was clearly tracing a circle, the sequence running in slightly uneven repetitions: 1 to 31, 1 to 29, 1 to 31 again, 1 to 30, and more. "If we take only the unicorn dreams... You had one last night." She put a heavy dash through the third '20' in the sequence, at the far right of the growing circle. "And the last one?"  
  
Harry paused, thinking. "That day Yuusuke and Kuwabara were throwing the beans all over the place. That holiday of theirs."  
  
"Setsubun," Hermione filled in. She put another dash through the second '3', as the circle completed itself. "And the one before that?"  
  
A flash of memory, a binding oath: 'By the powers of others, the dead nor the gods, I cannot reveal this: the events within the room under Gryffindor Tower, on the night of the winter solstice...' "The solstice," Harry answered. Hermione obediently put a line through the final '22', at the top of the page. Before she could ask again, Harry went on, "And the one before that was at Halloween."  
  
Hermione marked a '31' in the top left of the circle. A pattern was beginning to take shape: four marks, at equal distances, through the top half of the circle. Not a circle, Harry thought. A calendar. January started at the top: 31 days, then 29 for Leap Year, then 31 again for March, 30 for April...  
  
"And the one before that?" she asked.  
  
There hadn't been anything to mark the days of the first two dreams. "Um... September." But Hermione would want more information. "I got sick from that one, but I didn't miss classes... Saturday?"  
  
"It was after Quidditch tryouts," Ron supplied helpfully. "And our core magic tests."  
  
Hermione frowned, and quickly scribbled a normal, block-shaped calendar in the corner of the page. "We came on a Friday this year... tryouts are, what, two weeks after we arrive?" Ron and Harry nodded. "Then in Defense we had the overview, that demonstration with Minamino, then our tests..." she murmured, more to herself than them, ticking off days on the small calendar. "So -- HA! Thought so!"  
  
She turned back to the large circle, and decisively marked the '23' on the far left, perfectly dividing the circle in two -- a marked half, and an unmarked half. "You had your September vision on the equinox, Harry."  
  
The chart was impressive, but... "So?" Ron asked.  
  
"Honestly! You should've taken Arithmancy or Ancient Runes with me. You-Know-Who's taking advantage of the old holidays -- it's a cycle, I bet you anything Genkai would say there's magic in it, just look at how it's affecting Neville--" she stopped short.  
  
Harry edged slightly away, clearing her path to the door just in case.  
  
"'Mione?" Ron asked carefully.  
  
It seemed to jump-start her brain. "Oh Merlin..." she murmured. "They aren't in name and they aren't gone and... and..." She stared at the paper. "And I have to go check something. Now."  
  
She dashed out, leaving Harry and Ron to blankly ponder the sheet of parchment with its innocent circle of numbers.  
  
"Did you understand any of that, Harry?"  
  
"Volde-- You-Know-Who's work is forming a pattern," Harry answered.  
  
Ron nodded. "That's about what I got, too. Just one thing's bugging me a bit..." He tugged the paper a little closer, and traced the invisible line between the two equinox markings. "If those are exactly across from each other..." He trailed off, setting his finger on the Halloween marking.  
  
Harry froze, as Ron dragged his finger across the parchment, neatly bisecting the circle again, and landed on May 1st. "Oh. Bloody. Hell."  
  



	41. Redoubled Efforts

  
  
  
Friday afternoon, after both Harry's weapons practices, he finished his shower and went rooting through his trunk for clothing. Easily finding his trousers, he'd started digging for a sweater when something pounded at the door.  
  
"Knock knock!" Hermione called through. "Open up, guys, I'm about to drop my notes!"  
  
"Hold on a second!" Harry yelled back. Notes. Great, he grumbled mentally, buttoning his trousers with one hand and rummaging for the elusive sweater with the other. Sweater, sweater, come on, where-- ah! His fingers met knitted, scratchy wool, and he tugged. Eh? That's my scarf. Where's a sweater?  
  
"Guuuuuuys!" More thumping against the door -- it sounded like Hermione was kicking it. Harry gave up on the sweater and grabbed a Tshirt, yanking it over his head as he gestured that it was okay for Ron to get the door.  
  
Harry's head popped through the neckhole of the shirt as Hermione stumbled in, a stack of papers a good three and a half feet high balanced precariously in her arms and falling. She swerved to the nearest bed (Kuwabara's) just in time for the stack to fall on the covers.  
  
"Finally!" she huffed, as Kuwabara's cat pounced a few sheets slipping off the far edge of the bed. "Took you long enough. Thank you, Eikichi," Hermione added, taking the papers from the cat, who batted at them twice before letting go, pretending she hadn't pounced them to be helpful. "Here, I've brought everything I could find on year-ritual magic, the old holidays, places of power in Britain -- just in case -- and so forth. You have no idea how long it took to write all this out." She smiled, a bit tiredly. "It was good practice."  
  
"I'll just bet," Ron muttered, shifting the papers a bit. "Year-ritual magic?"  
  
"Yes!" Hermione pulled the original calendar-circle from Wednesday night out of her pocket, unfolding the parchment and smoothing it out. "We didn't mark the first of your visions, but it was early in August, right? Or that's when you guys mentioned it to me." She pointed at the circle, almost completely divided into eighths, though there was a gap with the lower right and bottom spokes missing. "So you've been having one every six weeks, on the old holidays, and it's simply ridiculous that it took us so long to realize it..."  
  
"Ridiculous," Harry murmured sarcastically. "Right."  
  
The sarcasm was lost on Hermione, as she cheerfully continued, "so I've been trying to find stuff on the old holidays and the year-spells -- it's pretty much the same thing, you guys should have taken Ancient Runes with me -- most of what I've got is in strange shamanistic religious terms so it's not that easy to translate--"  
  
"That's exactly why we're not in Ancient Runes, Hermione," Ron pointed out.  
  
Hermione shot him a Look. "You don't know what you're missing."  
  
"Do too."  
  
".... anyway, I think it's saying that there's a sort of buildup of power in the world over the course of the year, as things grow and warm and the earth revolves around the sun, and it sort of snaps and blows off every few weeks. Like relieving pressure, see. I can't quite figure out yet how it works with the reversal in seasons between the northern and southern hemispheres, and in different climates, because I think it's rather strongly related to life cycles and those are related to latitude..."  
  
Harry resisted the urge to rub his head as if he was developing a headache. "Hermione, you're babbling."  
  
"Well, it's fascinating! This is advanced magical theory here!"  
  
"Could you dumb it down for us non-advanced magical non-theorists?" Harry clarified.  
  
Hermione sighed. "We've got a bit less than six weeks before You-Know-Who makes his next step, and these papers describe a lot of things he might be doing."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Six weeks. That's around May 1st, right?" Ron asked, glancing at Harry.  
  
"Yes," Hermione answered, starting to reorganize her papers and not noticing Ron grin triumphantly at Harry.  
  
Harry grinned back. You guessed right, Ron, he thought. "Six weeks." Wow. They actually had the drop on the bastard for a change. "You-Know-Who's slipping. How are we supposed to miraculously thwart evil plots by the seat of our pants if we have time to plan?"  
  
Ron grabbed for the papers cheerfully. "Who knows? We'll have to wing it."  
  
Lucky for us, Harry thought, that's what Gryffindors do best.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
On Saturday, Kurama brought a marked beaker and a vial down to the lake shore, setting himself up in one of the many rubble-strewn niches towards the east end of the lake. He scooped up about half a beaker's worth of the cloudy lake water, eyeing it carefully for anything odd (no animals, no plants, no mud -- good), then set the beaker on a flat rock and waited for the water to settle.  
  
As it did so, he examined the vial, estimating the volume. It would hold a decent amount, perhaps three mouthfuls. He should only need two -- one for testing, and one for use -- which left one extra in case something went wrong. He set the vial next to the beaker, and turned to the niche.  
  
Three mouthfuls... that's how large a stone? Guessing it should be perhaps the size of a fist, Kurama gathered a number of stones ranging from about half that size, to somewhat larger.  
  
In the beaker, the water, settled and still, came up about halfway between two marks. Kurama looped a bit of vine around the vial and lowered it into the beaker, watching the water rush in. When he pulled the vial out, capping it, shaking a couple of drops back into the beaker, he grew a new leaf to curl under it in case another drop formed, and pulled it away.  
  
The water level had dropped two marks and a hair's breadth from the original point -- something Snape, with those damned eagle eyes of his, would notice instantly. Kurama took the smallest stone, looping another vine around it, and lowered it gently to the bottom of the beaker.  
  
It only raised the water a mark and a half. He removed it and tried a larger one, this time bringing the water level up two and a half marks. Again he tried, and again, quickly zeroing in on the proper size stone to put the water level exactly where it had been before Kurama had removed a vialful of liquid -- a dome-shaped rock, some common gray-brown lump that should have no magical properties.  
  
Taking the stone back, Kurama quickly dried it and slipped it into his pocket. He dumped the water back into the lake, set the vial into his shirt pocket, and returned to the school.  
  
As soon as he washed the vial and stone, and got back to his room, he'd steal the Doppelganger potion from Snape, using the rock to prevent the missing mount from being noticed. Doppelganger potion was thick and opaque like ink; the man wouldn't find the rock at the bottom of his jar of potion for months, if not years.  
  
I am SO good, Kurama thought smugly.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Somehow, Draco just knew this was all Potter's fault.  
  
He sat across from the Dark Lord, sipping tea made without enough sugar or milk (Voldemort never asked or cared how Draco took his tea). It was late Saturday night, the 30th of March, and Draco was exhausted from the usual day-long trip from Hogwarts to the Malfoy estate. But no, He-Who-Kept-Losing-To-A-Spoiled-Brat wanted a field report immediately. At least he's graciously allowing me to drink my tea before I speak, Draco thought sarcastically.  
  
Bastard.  
  
He set the cup in the saucer, carefully keeping his eyes properly downcast, like a good subordinate. Ugh. Hex me now. ... no. Hex Potter now. His fault. Bloody Mugglelover won't die.  
  
"Tell me of your progress," Voldemort commanded, putting his own tea aside and steepling his hands.  
  
Now that he had leave, Draco looked up. "It is slow, my Lord, but I am making headway despite the Hufflepuff girl's obtuse nature." That was good, emphasize the girl's Hufflepuff-ness. "And I am pleased to report--" careful, Draco, careful; skirting the dangerous territory of having an opinion that risks being counter to His own here, "-- that, while attemping to draw her out, I discovered that the girl has injured or killed a person before with her powers."  
  
Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."  
  
"She was most emotional on the subject, my Lord, and hastened me from her presence, but she has little skill at hiding her guilt. She has most certainly frozen people with her powers; I have not yet been able to ascertain if her attacks were lethal or not."  
  
Voldemort sat back thoughtfully. "And you say she is one of the weakest of these foreigners?"  
  
"All reports indicate that, my Lord."  
  
"And the least violent?"  
  
Draco bowed his head, hating himself and Voldemort and especially Potter who couldn't just die fifteen years ago like he should have. "Yes, my Lord."  
  
Voldemort mulled that over for a long moment. "They may not be permitted to join Dumbledore's side," he said decisively. "Redouble your efforts."  
  
"Yes, my Lord." Damn it, Potter -- I would've been a prince had you just gone and died, and now I'm stuck wheedling arrogant, disrespectful foreigners into my proper station.  
  
"Should they show any sign of allegiance to him, alert your father at once."  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
Voldemort eyed him. "Do not worry, young serpent. It won't be your task to neutralize them if it comes to that." He flicked his wand, and a roll of parchment appeared on the table, unfurling to reveal a map, and Voldemort gestured for Draco to lean closer. "Attend," he said, as firmly as a Victorian tutor. He tapped the map, and began tracing a route with his wand. "This will be your task..."  
  
It took all of Draco's willpower not to faint on the spot in recognition.  
  
I'm going to get killed doing that! Damn you, Potter! Why didn't you bloody well DIE?  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Monday had turned out to be a gorgeous, sunny day, though slightly breezy and on the cool side. To escape the Weasley twins and their birthday hijinks, Harry and Ron had challenged Yuusuke and Botan to broom races on the Quidditch pitch.  
  
With Ron borrowing Botan's Firebolt, Botan herself was able to use her oar (non-regulation and therefore banned from Quidditch games, thus the Firebolt). So far, she'd won all three of her races, and done a few tricky twirls around the goalposts to show off.  
  
Ron and Yuusuke lined up for their one-on-one race, toes brushing the same goalhoop.  
  
"Ready!" Botan yelled, a hand raised. "Set! GO!"  
  
The two of them shot forward. Harry knew the route (straight to the opposite center goal, three times around each post, then clockwise around the stadium five times, first to thread the starting hoop won), and he wasn't the referee this round; he idly looked away, gazing over the grounds.  
  
A flicker of movement just this side of the rise between Hagrid's and the pitch: a spot of red, green, and black, hurrying towards the Forest.  
  
Kurama?  
  
Harry lifted a hand to shade his eyes from the sun, peering more closely. Yes, it was Kurama -- there were very few students in the school with hair that color and length, and only a Slytherin would wear the Slytherin scarf. What on earth was he doing?  
  
"Harry?" Botan asked. "What is it?"  
  
Harry gestured with his chin. "Minamino. He's going into the Forest."  
  
Botan looked. "Well... I won't tell if you won't."  
  
"We should see what he's up to." It's either something interesting, or something very very evil that I should know about. Yeah. I don't think Kurama would be doing something evil or against me, but... maybe I should make sure...  
  
"Oh, he's probably just training," Botan said cheerfully. "We'll mess him up if we go barging in."  
  
"Training. In the Forbidden Forest." With all the hungry monstrous beasts in there. Riiiiight.  
  
"Sure. No better place for a Plant Master to train... miles of weapons."  
  
Plant MASTER?  
  
Botan tapped his shoulder. "Leave it, Harry. C'mon, they're on the fourth lap -- you and Ron get to go against me next round!"  
  
Harry glanced one last time at the Forest, bit his lip, and decisively turned away.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Deep in the Forest, Kurama stopped in the center of a large clearing. Surrounded and guarded by plants -- both his own and those already established in the Forest -- he reached into his shirt pocket and removed the precious vial of Doppelganger potion.  
  
It looks like nothing more than plain ink, he thought, holding it up to the light, what little there was in the thick, permanent gloom. He uncapped it and took a cautious sniff, wrinkling his nose at the stench. Definitely doesn't smell like ink. More like... Muggle toilet cleaner, with hints of rotting gingko fruit and fish brine.  
  
At that level of noxiousness, the proper dose couldn't possibly be more than a single swallow. No one, no matter how masochistic or desperate, would be willing to drink two in a row.  
  
... I am really going to regret this, but... kanpai! Kurama pinched his nose, lifted the vial to his lips, and drank. The world swirled black, and he quickly flicked the cap back over the vial as something deep in his body wrenched free with a shocking, painless pop!  
  
Kurama blinked his eyes open, to find his own face staring blankly back at him. The other abruptly sagged and crumpled, and Kurama leapt forward to catch the alternate. They sank to the ground under the alternate's dead weight, Kurama gently twisting him as they fell so the other lay half in the leaf litter, and half in Kurama's arms.  
  
Abruptly, Kurama realized the alternate still clutched the vial. He glanced up wildly. The trees in front of him didn't match the ones that had been in front of him before he'd taken the potion. A quick peek over his shoulder revealed those trees were now behind him.  
  
So this body... I'M the alternate? And this-- he looked down at the body in his arms, a living, breathing, warm doll -- this one's the real body. MY real body!  
  
Kurama shuddered. He looked like... there were creatures in Makai, the victims of operations gone horribly wrong, failed experiments, mindrapes; one couldn't call them beings anymore, really. No minds or souls left...  
  
That's it, Kurama realized. My soul -- I -- I'm in a created body. My real one looks empty, because it is empty.  
  
So how do I get back?  
  
I've transferred my soul before, when I got shot by that hunter and found Shiori's fetus. How'd I do that again...? He'd been desperate and in a lot of pain, working mostly by instinct.  
  
"Instinct," he muttered softly. "Right." How did it become instinctive to push his soul out of his body? The same way he pushed his magic out into his plants? But that's not the same; I have to have a medium to work with, something physical to send the power through...  
  
He had something physical here, too, though: a body that belonged to him anyway. Maybe if he pushed the way he did with his magic...? Kurama reached deep inside himself, tugged, and tried to push the power through his hand, the way he did with his plants.  
  
The ground shivered, and tiny green leaves burst through the leaf litter, radiating outwards. Kurama quickly stopped the power.  
  
That didn't work. Maybe if I try to recreate that snap that happened when I took the potion? He closed his eyes and focused, reaching deep once again. He twisted, he pulled, he rattled and yanked and tried to throw himself free of the body... but it was as futile as trying to fly by throwing himself at the ground and missing.  
  
Kurama sagged down over himself. Surely there had to be a way... unless it was a simple matter of a time limit for the potion to wear off?  
  
That can't be it. Even a wizard can't be stupid enough to invent a potion that would split their soul from their body and rely only on a time limit to get back--! What if he got injured in the false body?  
  
... I am NOT trying that.  
  
Something large skittered along his spidervines, high overhead, and Kurama glanced up. Something wants to try it for me, I see. He sat his other-self up, ducking under the other body's arm, and stood, pulling the limp form up with him.  
  
Ugh. I'm heavy... granted, the problem is mostly that I'm -- he's -- whatever the pronoun is, the unconscious me is relaxed rather than tense, and thus is floppy, limp deadweight. But I think I could stand to skip that dinnertime pudding every so often...  
  
In the canopy, Kurama's spidervines lashed around the beast, cocooning it against a tree branch. Kurama chuckled, pulling the other's arm just a little bit further and angling his torso so his other body's feet didn't drag over the ground. Eight legs. Spidervine caught a spider. How appropriate. It thrashed furiously and keened as Kurama left the clearing, the cry piercing through the forest gloom.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
On the Quidditch pitch, Harry jerked at sound of a faint, familiar, inhuman cry, and nearly rammed into Yuusuke before they stopped their brooms. He whirled, eyeing the Forest.  
  
Ron flew up near Harry, pale and shaking. "Ac--acro---"  
  
"Acromantula," Harry murmured, under his breath. "Minamino."  
  
"What?" Ron asked.  
  
"Minamino's in the Forest!" Harry explained in a yelp, kicking his Firebolt into gear.  
  
"He's what?!"  
  
Botan darted in front of Harry, blocking his way. He twisted, and hands grabbed the back of his shirt and broom. Harry glanced back as Yuusuke yanked him closer and pinned his arms. "What are you doing?!" he yelled, trying and failing to pull loose -- Yuusuke was stronger than he looked.  
  
"What are you doing?!" Yuusuke shot back. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a flash of familiar red below him -- Ron flying into position to catch Harry if he fell.  
  
"I think he's trying to fly to Kurama's rescue," Botan said, smiling wryly. "Heroic tendencies."  
  
Yuusuke blinked. "Kurama?"  
  
"In the Forest," Botan said brightly, pointing. "We saw him while you were racing Ron earlier."  
  
Harry kicked, and Yuusuke tightened his grip. "That so?"  
  
"Yes, dammit!" Harry yelled. "Let me go, we have to help him -- that was an Acromantula!" And Aragog's nest was near the area where Kurama had entered the Forest.  
  
"What's that?" Yuusuke asked.  
  
"Giant spider," Botan answered. "Can get as large as a car."  
  
Yuusuke blinked, brow furrowed in puzzlement. "And that's a threat to Kurama how?"  
  
Botan beamed. "It's not."  
  
Freezing in Yuusuke's grip, Harry stared, aghast. "What?"  
  
"Well, unless he got knocked out by something worse earlier, it's not," Botan admitted.  
  
"Something worse?" Ron squeaked. "Like what?!"  
  
Yuusuke grinned wickedly. "If I had to guess... the most dangerous thing in the area right now is the five-tailed fox."  
  
Botan mimicked a swat at Yuusuke, glaring. "That's not funny!"  
  
"Wasn't supposed to be," Yuusuke said unrepentantly. "I can't think of anything else around here that could touch Kurama if he didn't feel like it, not while he's in the woods-- and I'm right. There's Kurama now." He let Harry go, pointing to a spot of red hovering at the edge of the trees.  
  
Harry blinked, tilting a bit to peer around Botan. It was Kurama, waving cheerfully at them... no, beckoning.  
  
Botan looped around on her oar. "I'll go see what he wants." And she arrowed away.  
  
Nudging his broom further over the stands -- and away from Yuusuke; Harry did not want to get grabbed again -- Harry squinted, trying to see as Botan hovered before Kurama attentively. It was hard to tell at this distance, but the Slytherin didn't look injured...  
  
Ron came up between Harry and Yuusuke. "Odd, that."  
  
"What?" Harry asked.  
  
"He's just standing there," Ron said. "Most anyone would be halfway to the dorms by now, being in the Forest when that--" he gulped, "--spider screeched. Even a Gryffindor."  
  
Now that Ron mentioned it... that really was weird. Slytherins weren't noted for bravery.  
  
"Toldja," Yuusuke said, as Botan turned to fly back. "He ain't got a reason to be scared. Miles of weapons right there. What's he want, Botan?"  
  
The girl shrugged as she flew into earshot. "To talk to you."  
  
"Huh." Yuusuke pondered that for a second, then shot away, leaving Harry dumbfounded.  
  
"He couldn't just come over here?" Ron wondered aloud.  
  
Harry edged a bit lower, wondering if he could get past Botan. "Apparently not," he murmured, calcuating. If he darted like so, and looped like so, and pushed his Firebolt faster than it really should go... and didn't fall off when he zigged in that direction... he could make a real spectacle of himself and not manage to sneak up on Yuusuke and Kurama to hear whatever interesting plots they were hatching in the Forest. Damn.  
  
He dropped the idea.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Yuusuke landed, jumping from his broom with a certain wild, unpolished flair. He swung the broom over his shoulder and grinned. "Yo. What's up?"  
  
"I'm sorry to drag you away from your... game?" Kurama said politely, not entirely certain what the little flock of broomriders had been doing.  
  
"Races," Yuusuke filled in casually. "No problem. They pretty much ended when that whatever screeched in the forest. Harry was going ballistic about you being in here."  
  
Kurama blinked. "Gryffindor heroic tendencies aren't exaggerated, I take it?"  
  
"I've only seen Kuwabara worse," Yuusuke replied. "So, what'd ya call me down here for?"  
  
"Well..." Kurama smiled ruefully, stepping back into the Forest's gloom. Yuusuke followed. "I was testing something, and I thought I'd ask your advice... you've had an out-of-body experience, right?"  
  
"If you can call being dead an out-of-body experience, yeah," Yuusuke admitted, scratching his head as Kurama led him past the first line of trees. "Why--?" Kurama led him around a larger tree, stepping carefully over thick Devil's Snare vines, and Yuusuke cut himself off. "Bloody sodding hell--!"  
  
Kurama stopped, standing over the body he'd left guarded by the Snare at the base of the tree, and grinned sheepishly. "I was testing a potion I stole, and, well..." he gestured at the false-body he was wearing, "I'm sort of stuck in the wrong one."  
  
"Damn..." Yuusuke muttered, incredulous, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two identical Kuramas suspisciously. "You just can't have small problems, can you."  
  
"Not dramatic enough," Kurama said easily.  
  
"So what am I supposed to-- no." Yuusuke backed up a couple of steps, shaking his head. "No no no no no."  
  
"No what?" Kurama asked.  
  
"I ain't kissing a guy!" Yuusuke blurted. "Keiko would have my head!"  
  
Kurama blinked. "What?"  
  
"You heard me!"  
  
"Yes, but you're making no sense," Kurama said. "I wanted to ask how you got back into your body. What does kissing have to do with--?" Suddenly, it clicked. "Oh. That's how?"  
  
"Yeah," Yuusuke grumbled. "Something about breathing life energy... and I like you and all, man, but can't you find one of the girls to do it?"  
  
Thoughtfully, the gears in his mind turning, Kurama murmured, "That may not be... no. Of course not. You were noncorporeal, weren't you? Not inhabiting a physical body?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"So you needed the life energy by proxy. But I'm physical," Kurama mused. "I may not need... well." He brushed his hair aside and knelt, tipping his real body's face up. "Only one way to find out." And Kurama pressed his lips to his own.  
  
"GAH!" Yuusuke yelped. "Shit, warn a guy when you do that--!"  
  
Kurama pulled away with a frown, and turned to see Yuusuke red-faced and hastily looking away. "It didn't work."  
  
Yuusuke went even more red. "You gotta... I dunno, like CPR or something. Um. I think. You really should've talked to Keiko, I wasn't even in the room."  
  
"You are so old-fashioned," Kurama commented. "All those hentai manga, and you can't stand to see anything in real life."  
  
"I can too!" Yuusuke sputtered. "It's just... it's you and... and yourself! And that stuff's supposed to be private and special and can I go now?"  
  
Kurama ignored the question. "I'm trying again." Yuusuke squawked, and from the corner of his eye Kurama saw him spin to face in some other direction entirely. And then Kurama's lips pressed against his unconscious self's mouth again, and he nudged them open and breathed.  
  
The world swirled black once more.  
  
Kurama blinked at himself a second time. His perspective had changed again -- the false body slid to the ground, puffed into a swirl of mist, and vanished.  
  
"Well," Kurama murmured. "That was interesting."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The break ended, and the first night back saw Hermione's usual post-Easter ritual starting up again. This year, though, it seemed five times worse.  
  
"Ronald Weasley, we have only TEN WEEKS until OWLs!" she screeched, brandishing a color-coded chart over his evening chess game (opponent: a 7th-year Ravenclaw boy, one of the NEWT-level Defense students). "It's five years of material! FIVE! And you didn't even so much as open a single book over break?!"  
  
"Checkmate," Ron said, standing and offering his hand to the Ravenclaw. "Good game."  
  
"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?! The OWLs determine your whole future and you're playing GAMES!"  
  
"I," Ron hissed back, "am doing my Defense homework, believe it or not. Not that I really think that studying myself into a mental breakdown is any way to prepare for the stupid OWLs!"  
  
Harry carefully, quietly packed up his books, edged to the stairs, and slipped up to his dorm before they really started in on each other.  
  
Maybe I should just study up here the rest of the term. I have a feeling they're going to bicker like this all through it.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Friday rolled around, and near the end of dinner McGonagall began tapping her spoon against her goblet. The Hall slowly quieted, and Dumbledore stood.  
  
"All fifth-years," he said, voice echoing through the hall, "are to meet outside Professor Hagrid's at 8 am tomorrow morning."  
  
He paused, eyeing the crowd, and added,  
  
"Attendance is mandatory."  
  
The Hall burst into noise as Dumbledore sat down once more.  
  
"No fair!" Ron grumbled. "That's OUR bloody time, dammit!" A murmur of agreement run around the table.  
  
"They've never singled out a class before," Hermione murmured. "I wonder why...?"  
  
"Betcha Hagrid's gotten something new and 'interestin'," Seamus said. "We're probably mucking out pens."  
  
"ALL of us?" Hermione asked dryly, rolling her eyes. "Don't be stupid."  
  
"Then what do you think it is, Oh Great Genius Prefect Granger?"  
  
"Well..." Hermione mused, "from the way Professors McGonagall and Snape are frowning, I would say it's something they both disagree with. That narrows the possibilities a lot."  
  
"Really?" Harry asked. "To what?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
That, Harry thought with a sort of resigned weariness, is always a bad sign.  
  
I don't think I'm going to like tomorrow.  
  



	42. The Surprise At Hagrid's

  
  
  
The next morning, bleary-eyed and grouchy, Harry made his way down to Hagrid's hut. Hermione, early riser that she was, had gotten up early and made a thermos of hot tea to bring along.  
  
"Gimme some?" Harry asked, as he waited with his friends by the pumpkin patch, cold dew soaking into his trousers. Hermione absently handed the cup (there was only one) to him, her focus flicking between the hut and the students trickling from the castle.  
  
Harry drank gratefully, wiped the edge of the cup clean, and passed it to Ron. Then he followed Hermione's gaze to the gathering crowd.  
  
"Odd mix," he muttered. And it was, with most students wearing their school robes as if this was an actual class, and others in old robes or grubby Muggle clothing, ready to do chores or work with animals or whatever Hagrid had them doing. A few wore more ordinary Muggle clothing; Yuusuke, for example, had torn jeans and a plain T-shirt on: his preferred outfit for everything except classes and sleeping.  
  
The bells rang 8 o'clock, and Hagrid's door opened. Genkai stepped out of the hut, carrying a sack in one hand and a small mug of coffee in the other. "Thank you for coming," she said perfunctorily, casting her eyes over the crowd of teenagers. "Everyone seems to be here. Good." She sipped at her coffee. "I have seen your OWLs, and they are the sort of useless crap favored by inexperienced bureaucrats. So, today you're having a practical."  
  
"We're what?" someone yelped, sparking a wave of protests.  
  
"Why didn't she tell us?" Hermione moaned. "We haven't had a chance to study or practice or--"  
  
"That's the point," Hiei told her flatly.  
  
Genkai finished her coffee, and jumped from Hagrid's porch to the ground. "Follow me," she commanded, walking towards the Forest.  
  
Grumbling, the class complied. Harry glanced back once, seeing Hagrid watching from his window, eyes worried. Harry offered a small smile, trying to convey, We'll be fine. Really. Don't look so worried? Please?  
  
Hagrid nodded in acknowledgement, but his expression didn't change. Then he was out of sight, and Harry turned back to his friends. "Hagrid doesn't look happy about this," he said quietly.  
  
"That's so reassuring, Harry, thanks," Ron answered.  
  
Genkai stopped at the edge of the Forest, and leapt onto a stump. "Welcome to the pop quiz. This section of the forest has been warded from all creatures above a 5th-year level of competence. You will be making your way through it from here to the Quidditch pitch." She pointed to the bright turrets of the stadium as horror rippled through the crowd. "There are exactly four rules. One, you are not to kill whatever you may encounter. We are interested in testing you, not angering the creatures of the Forest. Two, you may only leave the Forest at the end of the route near the Quidditch pitch. Leaving at any other point will be considered cheating and be an automatic failure. Three, if you find a rope in your way with these on it," she lifted a strange paper, folded into something very like an origami braid, "do not pass it, and do not remove the papers. They mark the boundaries of the testing area."  
  
Harry glanced at Malfoy, seeing him smirk.  
  
"Should you attempt to sabotage these, not only will your hands will turn red so I can catch you, you will deactivate that section of the wards. Anything that comes through will sniff out your trail, so unless you particularly enjoy being monster food, leave the papers alone."  
  
Malfoy's smirk fell away, replaced by a pout.  
  
Ha. Foiled your little plot, ferret? Serves you right, Harry thought.  
  
"Four," Genkai continued, "you will work alone." She held up a sack. "I have all your names in here. I'll be drawing your names at random, and that's when you will begin." She paused, looking over the students. "You have until dusk, and then I will come fetch the failures." She reached into the sack, and drew a small disk. "Minamino, you're up first. Go."  
  
The class stared as Kurama stepped forward, drew his wand and a rose, glanced up at the looming trees, and darted into the gloom.  
  
That's it, then, Harry thought. _No stopping this Saturday-morning insanity now._  
  
 _... I don't have core magic. All I've got is my knife_ (it was securely strapped to his forearm, within easy reach) _and my wand. And some improved reflexes and muscle development from the sword practice, which would be a lot more helpful if I actually had a sword_. He quickly ran through a list of the spells he knew. _Expecto Patronum's the most advanced spell I know, but it's only for Dementors... Lumos Solarium might blind something adapted to the Forest's light... Wingardium Leviosa, like Ron and the troll in first year... Accio, like for the First Task..._  
  
"Potter," Genkai announced.  
  
 _I'm SECOND?! Of all the ruddy ill luck--!_  
  
"Good luck, Harry," Hermione said.  
  
"See you by the pitch," Ron added.  
  
"Yeah," Harry answered. "Later." He stood and walked to the starting line, drawing his wand and glancing at the dark trees just as Kurama had. Daunting, but... well, it's not like I've never been in here before.  
  
Harry pushed off, fell into a jog, and entered the Forbidden Forest.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama entered the last clearing before the Quidditch pitch, a shallow hollow draped and surrounded by his own cobwebby spidervines. He'd run the course easily, arriving at his chosen clearing without so much as a snagged thread in his clothing, though his shoes were a bit muddy.  
  
Three minutes, he thought to himself, pulling the vials of Doppelganger potion and Potion of Past Life out of his shirt pockets. If Harry's run the course as quickly as I did, which is unlikely. But that still doesn't leave me much time... He sat against a tree, uncapped the Doppelganger potion, and drank.  
  
The familiar second of blackness descended over him, and he blinked, now facing the tree and himself. Kurama hastily recapped the first vial, took the other, and drank a hefty dose of the Potion of Past Life. He dug into the leaf litter behind his real, unconscious body, burying the two vials where they wouldn't be damaged or found; by the time he pulled his hand free, it was longer, paler, and tipped with claws.  
  
 _I'm Youko now... I'll think of my real body as 'Kurama' for simplicity's sake._  
  
Youko stood, flicking his tail and ears to check they were in place and functional, then twisted his fist into the front of the unconscious Kurama's shirt and dragged him into the air.  
  
First, a reason to be unconscious. He raised his free hand, and punched Kurama in the temple. Kurama's shirt tore a bit from the force of the blow, and Youko adjusted his grip to avoid dropping Kurama. _That'll bruise nicely soon... and hurt like a bitch once I get back in my body, if Madam Pomfrey can't dose me with an anti-bruise potion while I'm unconscious. The things I do for these people... pfft._ He slammed Kurama against the tree, not hard enough to do worse than leave bruises from head to tailbone, and let him drop. Kurama fell on his side, a carelessly-thrown doll hiding the precious vials of potion.  
  
 _And now, a reason to stay unconscious for a couple of days, despite Pomfrey's potions and charms._ Youko ripped a swath from one of the drapes of "spiderweb" -- the glue on the sticky variety of these vines had certain sedative properties, to prevent cocooned creatures from tearing free. Gently, he placed it over Kurama's mouth, careful not to block his nose. _Even after they get that off, it should take about 48 hours to naturally work through my system... plenty of time._  
  
Satisfied with his preparations, Youko took Kurama's wand, stuck it into his sash, and leapt into the tree, concealing himself among the gray-white web of his vines to wait for Harry.  
  
Youko didn't have to wait long. Perhaps five minutes later, Harry walked boldly into the clearing. His face and clothes were streaked with dirt -- looked like he had to crawl through a few spots on the route -- and his left sleeve was badly torn. He held his wand firmly in his right hand, and his eyes burned with wary determination.  
  
Harry's gaze fell on Kurama, crumpled at the base of the tree.  
  
Showtime.  
  
"Kurama..?!" Harry ran straight to the redhead, crouching over him. He set two fingers to Kurama's neck, checking his pulse, but didn't look; instead, he scanned the clearing warily, wand at the ready.  
  
Not bad, Youko thought, watching Harry's brow furrow. But this isn't what I want to see.  
  
He bent forward and plucked the wand from Harry's hand.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
So far, Harry hadn't had to use his knife, but he'd dodged, rolled, cast plenty of Accios, Leviosas, and Stupefys, as well as a spell he had the feeling he'd made up on the spot, and at one point crawled under a fallen tree for no reason other than instinct. He'd torn his sleeve on the last trap, catching it on a broken branch.  
  
Now he walked boldly into the next clearing, walking between billowing drapes of spiderweb into a nest that greatly resembled Aragog's. The small hollow was carpeted in more of the webbing, pale and silvery in the dark Forest.  
  
Firstly, he noticed that there were only two breaks in the drapes of cobwebs: an obvious entrance and exit. Secondly, he noticed a splash of red: a bundle at the base of a tree near the exit.  
  
Not blood. "Kurama...?!" Harry hurried over to check.  
  
The Slytherin lay unconscious -- like Cedric not like Cedric this is just supposed to be a test..! -- and Harry quickly felt for a pulse, eyeing the rest of the clearing. Where was the spider? He'd Stupefy it and--  
  
His wand was yanked from his hand. What the--! Harry looked up, shocked, and met glowing gold eyes in the web right above his head. Part of the web detached from the rest -- an arm?! -- grabbed Harry by the front of his robes, and threw him to the center of the clearing.  
  
Harry quickly rolled to his feet, just in time to see a larger part of the web detach itself and leap to the ground. Not web at all...! It was a man, a pale, silver-and-white man, with gauzy, sleeveless robes, long silver hair, pale skin... and silver-furred, wolf-like ears and tail.  
  
A youko demon's human form retains the fox's ears and one of its tails.  
  
"Demon--!" Harry blurted.  
  
"You're quick," the demon purred, voice low. It flicked an ear, and suddenly webbing shot from the trees above, catching Harry by the wrists and lifting. Harry kicked -- should've grabbed my knife the instant my wand was taken! -- and the demon frowned. More webbing fell, writhing around Harry's ankles and tying them together. "Behave," the demon murmured, stepping forward, absently sticking the stolen wand with Kurama's, in his white sash.  
  
Harry twisted away, but the demon caught his chin firmly, peering at him. Raising a clawed finger, he lifted Harry's bangs out of the way.  
  
"So..." he murmured, eyes gleaming unpleasantly, "You're the famous Harry Potter."  
  
Harry scowled, but the demon continued, "Boy-Who-Lived, savior of the wizarding world, boy at the very top of Voldemort's wanted list, and all-around hero. Well. I suppose introductions are in order, for one so exalted..." He let Harry go, and stepped back to bow mockingly. "I am Youko, an expert at sneaking past wards, and a master thief specializing in the priceless. And you, the hope of the wizarding world, are indeed..." the demon glanced up, gaze sliding along Harry's form, "...priceless."  
  
"Am not," Harry snapped, starting to feel queasy. The way the demon was looking at him and speaking... and that mention that he was an expert at getting past wards... he couldn't possibly be part of the test.  
  
"Oh, but you are... at least, in the way that matters to me, though I have little doubt Voldemort would pay any price I asked." He paused. "I shall sell you--" Harry squawked; the demon ignored it. "--if you prove to be merely valuable, rather than priceless. I hope it will not come to that."  
  
"YOU hope--?!"  
  
"Though I must admit to being disappointed at how easy it was to steal you," the demon added, not allowing Harry to finish.  
  
"Steal me?" That's a weird way to put it...  
  
"Perhaps it will be more amusing to evade Deathsnackers and your Aurors for a few years...?" the demon mused aloud. "Yes... I do think that will make up for this disappointing heist."  
  
"YEARS--!" Harry yelped. Nononononono... He kicked out at Youko, missing, setting himself to swing wildly.  
  
Youko frowned. "That will never do," he said sternly.  
  
The webbing around Harry's wrists went suddenly slack. He tumbled to the ground, rolling away. The demon grabbed him, tying his wrists behind his back. Harry hissed and thrashed futilely, before being scooped up under Youko's arm like a misbehaving toddler. "Perhaps you'll be less impertinent with your comrade," he muttered, dumping Harry on his back, nearly on top of the unconscious Kurama.  
  
"Like HELL I wi--"  
  
Youko shoved a wad of moss into Harry's mouth, and looped a flattened rope of webbing around Harry's head to hold it in place, gagging Harry. Then he added another loop to tie Harry to Kurama by the waist, so he couldn't wriggle away. "You will. If you kick or struggle, you'll probably injure your friend here."  
  
Bastard! But he was right -- Harry had no idea what injuries Kurama had gotten to knock him out. Internal bleeding? Broken bones?  
  
"Let's play a game," Youko said abruptly. "How many of your classmates are worth joining you and the pretty redhead there?"  
  
None! Harry thought, glaring as if he could cut the demon down with his eyes alone. None at all and I hope they kick your tail several times before I do!  
  
Youko smirked, brought a wide swath of the spidervines to drape over Harry and Kurama, hiding them from view (with a thin gap for Harry to watch), and turned away.  
  
Harry promptly set to work chewing at the gag and twisting his wrists. Without the demon watching, he might be able to loosen the web to get free...  
  
-0-0-0  
  
This had better work, Youko thought, stepping to not-quite block the exit from the clearing. I can't think of much else to provoke Harry without actually attacking him. If he doesn't tap into his core magic by the end of the day...  
  
Let's see, who's my first 'victim' after Harry again...? Ah. Yes. Yuusuke.  
  
...uh oh.  
  
Quickly, Youko leapt back into the trees, camoflaged by the colorless spidervines. Already, he could hear Yuusuke crashing through the woods; that was so like him, just go straight and bull his way through whatever got in his way.  
  
Except Youko was in his way.  
  
Yuusuke exploded into the clearing, and paused, sniffing at the air. "What the hell--?"  
  
Youko dropped down on top of him, slapping a hand over Yuusuke's mouth.  
  
"Put on a good show, but don't hurt me," he murmured hastily, too low for Harry to hear but loud enough for Yuusuke (and his somewhat enhanced human senses) to. Yuusuke bucked and threw Youko off.  
  
Youko landed in a crouch, snarling.  
  
"Rei Gun!" Yuusuke snapped, firing off a shot. Youko dodged, and it blasted a shallow crater in the ground.  
  
Whew, Youko thought, as the two of them fell back a step, ostenibly resizing each other up. He recognized me -- that shot was too low-level to do any real damage.  
  
"You got your warning, and I got mine," Yuusuke growled. "What's your game?"  
  
Youko raised an eyebrow. Thank you, Yuusuke, for that perfect opening! "And who," he asked, "said there was any 'game', human?"  
  
"Foxes play games," Yuusuke replied. "Every idiot knows that."  
  
Youko grinned, flexing his claws. "So, of course, I must cater to the expectations of an idiot," he said, eyeing Yuusuke pointedly to indicate he was the idiot in question. "What an amusing concept."  
  
Yuusuke didn't reply, and Youko straightened from his defensive stance. Yuusuke followed suit.  
  
"I shall do so, then, human," Youko offered unexpectedly. He flicked a finger at the spidervines outlining an entrance to the clearing, and they laced together, closing the opening. "I have hidden five things in this clearing," he said. Yuusuke blinked. "Find one, and you pass."  
  
"What sort of stupid game is that?" Yuusuke blurted.  
  
"You wished for a game, human," Youko replied. "I have complied with your wishes."  
  
"I didn't say I wanted a game!" Yuusuke yelled. "I asked what it was!"  
  
"And I have told you. Play it or fail."  
  
Grumbling something about stupid foxes twisting words -- which Youko pretended not to hear -- Yuusuke subsided. "Five things," he muttered, looking around the clearing.  
  
Youko waited; Harry, Kurama, and the two bottles of potion were safely tucked away among the tree roots, covered in spidervine and effectively invisible, but Youko didn't want Yuusuke finding them. "Five things, human," he taunted. "Too hard for you?"  
  
"I ain't said that, fucker! I'll play your damn game and win!" Yuusuke hissed, turning to start searching the clearing. Youko flicked his tail, and a mass of spidervines fell in front of Yuusuke, blocking his way.  
  
"Did I say you could search the clearing, human?" he chided.  
  
Yuusuke fired a Rei Gun through the vines, blasting them to charred ash. "That ain't fair!"  
  
"You didn't specify a fair game." Not that a fox, demon or spirit, would've given him one. Youko was being ridiculously kind to his friend.  
  
Yuusuke spun, slamming a punch at Youko, which the fox easily dodged. It tore another crater in the ground, and Youko quickly stamped a foot down on Yuusuke's wrist to pin him. "Fucking bastard..." Yuusuke muttered, jerking free and rolling away, "... never trust a demon..."  
  
Though it was only for show, that stung. Youko pounced, tackling Yuusuke again to cover another fast whisper. "You can win, human. Pay attention!"  
  
Yuusuke tossed Youko over his head and flipped to his feet. They circled defensively once more.  
  
"Can't handle anything but a fistfight, human?" Youko asked. "Need rules and fair play, human? Going to forfeit my game, human?"  
  
"Quit callin' me 'human'," Yuusuke snapped. "My name's Yuusuke!"  
  
"Human."  
  
"Yuusuke!"  
  
"Human."  
  
"Yuu--" he froze. "Your name. You sneaky little bastard, you've hidden your name!"  
  
Youko snorted in false disgust. "What do you know... the little human has flashes of genius." Though I was all but throwing the answer in his face. Still, I'm glad he figured it out in time. "Or dumb luck. Never mind." He flicked his fingers disdainfully at the exit. "Go away; you stink."  
  
"I DO NOT!"  
  
Youko gestured. One of his spidervines twisted around Yuusuke's wrist and threw him from the clearing. Another gesture closed the exit behind him.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry stared.  
  
He let him go...?  
  
He let Yuusuke go.  
  
WHY did he let Yuusuke go?!  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Well," Youko said, stretching lazily and smirking at Harry, "that was amusing. So easy to bait..." He glanced towards the entrance to the clearing. "I wonder if this one will be as fun?"  
  
Movement between the drapes of spiderweb; a tall student, a spot of fiery-red hair...  
  
"Ah-HA!" Kuwabara said, peering through the trees. "I thought I sensed a fox back here!"  
  
Youko's ears twitched disapprovingly. "I'm not trying to hide."  
  
Kuwabara practically bounced into the open. "Whatcha doing, then, man? We've got a test here!"  
  
Spidervine shot down, wrapping about Kuwabara, tying and gagging him. "I know," Youko said coldly. You are going to blow my cover, dammit!  
  
A flash of gold light, and Kuwabara sawed through the vines, freeing himself. He yanked the gag free. "What are you DOING?!"  
  
Youko hastily fired more vine at Kuwabara, covering his mouth again. "Interesting trick, but shut up."  
  
Kuwabara slashed at the vines, eyes wide and hurt as he yelled an unintelligible, three-syllable question -- probably Kurama's name.  
  
Youko all but drowned Kuwabara in the spidervine, tangling him in it, and yanked him off his feet. Kuwabara hung there, pulling against the vines in vain, waving his sword wildly to try and slice through the vines. Youko stepped forward, leaning in close -- Kuwabara quickly let the sword vanish, before he hit the fox -- and smirked at him.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, using a long finger to tilt Kuwabara's face as he pretended to inspect him. "But we're being watched. Once you're freed, leave." Then, more loudly, Youko announced, "Not worth my time."  
  
He straightened and stepped back, gesturing at the vines. They carried Kuwabara across the clearing, out through the exit, and dumped him on his face.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Several students taunted, caught, and cocooned to dangle in the treetops later, Youko was beginning to worry. Not a single student has managed to pass yet, except Yuusuke and Kuwabara... am I being too difficult?  
  
No. It's them, not me. I'm being NICE here, but nobody's managed to keep their head to attack, or negotiate, or do much more than gibber and shake... it's pathetic!  
  
Maybe they'll calm down outside my immediate presence and try to escape? I hope so... He'd been careful to hang them near thick, sturdy branches they could climb down if they did free themselves. I really don't want to fail the whole class, he continued, thinking of the amount of extra training they'd have to put in to get the kids up to standard if they all failed.  
  
Ah! My next victim...  
  
Ron edged into the clearing, his wand out and eyes darting nervously over the 'spiderweb' draped around the hollow. His eyes fell on Youko, and he blinked.  
  
"You're not a spider."  
  
Youko burst out laughing. "Indeed, I am not!" he agreed, lifting a hand and flexing his claws. He cheerfully added, "I am much, much worse," before leaping at Ron, still grinning, his claws outstretched frighteningly.  
  
Ron yelped, jerking backwards. He tore at his collar, and threw his chessboard pendant at the ground. It shot to cover most of the clearing, and Youko fell mid-leap onto the board.  
  
What on earth--?! he thought, landing in a crouch. He drew himself up and glanced down. He stood on the king's square, on the side of the board away from Ron. I shouldn't have landed here... I was aiming to land practically in the boy's face.  
  
"Queen to E8!" Ron yelled, throwing a white piece onto his side of the board. It grew just as the board had, morphing into a meter-high statuette of a plump, motherly woman in an apron -- the indomitable Mrs. Weasley; Kurama had seen photographs the few times he'd been in Gryffindor Tower. She carried a wand in one hand, and a frying pan in the other, and all but flew across the board towards Youko, raising both.  
  
Youko gestured for his vines to grab the boy and his chesspiece, and froze when they didn't respond. I can't attack--? he had just enough time to think wildly, before the miniature Mrs. Weasley smashed his knee with her frying pan.  
  
Catching himself on his other leg before he collapsed, Youko hissed. If this was my real body, not an ersatz fake, I wouldn't be using that knee until after I'd seen a healer... and how humiliating. A frying pan?! "Well?" he growled at Ron. "You got in your one shot. Get the fuck out of here before your endgame wears off and I can take MY shot."  
  
Ron eeped and ran, darting from the clearing without his board or chesspiece. Youko hopped off, sitting on the ground to bandage his knee in spidervine, and a couple of minutes later, the board and piece shrank and shot away.  
  
Accio'd, Youko thought. "You little reds are vicious," he snarled at Harry.  
  
Harry's eyes gleamed at him in triumph.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
It was like a nightmare, Harry thought later, as another classmate -- Yukina, this time -- went vanishing into the canopy of the forest, snugly cocooned in Youko's web. That's... how many failed? Ten? Twelve? And I can't DO anything...!  
  
He twisted more violently at the ties around his wrists, trying to reach his knife, slip a hand free, something... The damn things moved smoothly with his efforts, not so much as creaking under the strain. Youko had tied them strangely; they didn't bite into his skin, or chafe, but they somehow weren't loose enough to be of any help to Harry.  
  
Harry stilled as Youko lifted the curtain of webbing. Huh? What's he doing...? he wondered, as Youko returned to his place near the exit.  
  
A minute later, Draco stormed into the clearing, wild-eyed and pale, his hair a wreck and his clothes filthy. He stopped short at the sight of Youko, standing coolly in his way... and whimpered, falling to his knees.  
  
Harry blinked, as Draco burst out into unintelligible gibbering.  
  
The youko sneered, and lazily twitched a finger. His web dropped and snatched Draco up, carrying the snivelling, terrified blond into the canopy. "Pathetic," Youko grumbled. "Have you no more classmates worth the air they breathe? I grow bored."  
  
If you're expecting sympathy, don't hold your breath, Harry thought.  
  
A glassy crash overhead, a blast of cold air, and Youko grinned. "I spoke too soon," he laughed. "That last girl just escaped... shattered my web like so much fine crystal! Bravo!"  
  
Huh? Why's he so happy that someone escaped?  
  
No answer was forthcoming.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Youko replaced the web over Harry. Well. That failed spectacularly... the Malfoy brat didn't even notice Harry or Kurama there. And next up is... ah. There he is now.  
  
Neville appeared at the edge of the clearing, and froze. Slowly, Youko turned to fully face him, lashing his tail to draw attention to it.  
  
"I--" Neville stuttered, "I a-apologize for intruding upon your territory... s-sir fox." He bowed quickly, nervously, eyes flicking from politely downcast to warily upon Youko. "B-but I was told I needed to p-pass..."  
  
"You do," Youko agreed. So, he remembered Genkai's warning about how to not annoy a fox. That was good.  
  
"M-may I p-please pass?" Neville asked, quickly adding, "Sir fox?"  
  
Youko smiled. "I like your manners, boy. We will play a game." He stepped back to the exit, and traced a line in the dirt with his toe, then moved out of the direct path between the two openings to the clearing. "Cross this line without getting caught, and you are free to go. Should I catch you..." he pointed upwards, "you go upstairs until the old hag comes to fetch you. Sound fair?"  
  
Neville hesitated. "Catch me... how?"  
  
Youko tapped his foot against the ground. "I will stand here. Come within reach, I'll grab you. Stay out of reach, and I'll try to catch you with these," he called a few spidervines down to hover near him, swaying. "You can use whatever you like -- magic, weapons, anything. Sound fair?"  
  
"Um..." Neville gulped. "N-no offense, sir fox, b-but... not really."  
  
"Too bad," Youko replied, more coolly. "You don't get a choice."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
I don't GET it, Harry thought. I thought he wasn't working with Genkai, had snuck into her test, but... he all but just said he was... but he told me he wasn't...  
  
Maybe it's just because Neville was nice, that he gets this no-harm deal. Why didn't any of us think of being polite to the demon?!  
  
... he didn't give me a chance to be. But I still don't get what the bloody hell he's up to!  
  
The first strand of web crashed down. Neville jumped out of the way, biting back a terrified shriek. He tripped, fell to his back, and rolled aside as a second strand slammed into the dirt. Scrambling partway up, Neville scurried towards the exit. A third strand knocked him to his knees...  
  
... and a line of bushes exploded up around Neville, tangling the ropy web. Neville shoved to his feet and ran again, bringing a hand to his hair. More webbing hurtled towards him, and Neville snapped his hands up, branches bursting upwards to ensnare the white cables. A trunk dropped from the mass and took root between Neville and the demon, more branches spreading to catch Youko's attacks.  
  
Now Harry couldn't see Neville, but he could see the demon. Youko's tail lashed violently, his ears twitching, as he called more and more of the webbing down. He gestured sideways with a pale arm, and several strands tried to catch Neville from the side, only to get stuck in more bushes.  
  
Suddenly, the demon stopped. With a single broad sweep of his arm, the webbing carpeting the clearing swept the plants away, and Harry could see again.  
  
Neville lay sprawled over the line in the dirt, panting and white-faced.  
  
He did it?! ... he did it. Neville won the demon's game.  
  
Youko took a single step forward, causing Neville to scramble backwards.  
  
"I'm free to go!" he yelped. "You said so!"  
  
"I did," Youko replied. "Well done, boy."  
  
Harry stared in shock, momentarily forgetting to continue chewing at his gag, as Neville bolted.  
  
"Well done"? Now I'm REALLY confused!  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Several students later, Youko had made it through over half the class. A surprising number of students -- a half-dozen so far, counting Yukina -- had made it past him.  
  
Youko was sure he had Harry confused nearly to the breaking point, between his occasional jibes, his seemingly random treatment of the students, and his similarly random covering and uncovering of Harry and Kurama. He was equally sure Harry hadn't yet figured out the pattern behind the latter: every test was calculated to fit the students, and as for hiding and revealing Harry... well.  
  
He needed to make sure a maximum number of people saw Kurama and Youko at the same time, but at the same time, he needed to avoid ruining the test for certain people. That was what the chart of social relationships had been for: to know who would martyr themselves for Harry. Ron and Hermione, for example, were known to do so.  
  
Botan darted through the clearing on her oar, startling Youko from his thoughts. Before he could so much as lift his hand, she'd vanished into the trees on the far side.  
  
He blinked. "That was different."  
  
A muffled snort came from his captives, and he turned to face Harry. "Something funny, kit?" he asked dryly. Puzzlement and defiance flashed through Harry's eyes. "Yes, I called you kit. You're a kit. A cub. And one who can't get out of a simple knot, at that." Harry's eyes glinted angrily. "Cute. And they expect you to defeat He Who Is A Dolt." He paused for a beat. "Maybe you could manage that much," he said derisively, "if I felt like letting you go."  
  
Get mad, get offended, get SOMETHING and tap into your core magic, dammit! If I have to act any more like Karasu, I think I'll be sick!  
  
Fortunately, a distraction arrived: Millicent Bulstrode lumbered into the clearing. Her eyes landed on Youko, turning to face her, then slid past him to Harry and Kurama.  
  
"You've caught Harry Potter," she said, stunned.  
  
Youko raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly.  
  
The girl's eyes lit up in greedy calculation. "You know... Harry Potter's worth a fair amount, to the right people. I could get you in touch with them."  
  
That is the clumsiest attempt at bargaining I've ever seen, Youko thought. "Could you, now."  
  
"Oh yes!" Millicent told him. "You'd be rewarded quite handsomely, I'm sure! You could even keep the redhead!"  
  
I was expecting something, but REALLY-- this stupid of an attempt? "Care to name names, or would I just be bargaining sight unseen?"  
  
Millicent shook her head. "I really shouldn't say... buying people is really frowned upon in this country, so this has to be very low-profile, see."  
  
Damn. I suppose it was too much to hope for that she'd be THAT dumb. "Indeed, I do see." Youko twitched a finger, and his spidervines shot down to wrap around the stout girl. He curled a fist in her collar and yanked her close. "You can tell your unnameable master that he can't pay me enough to sell my acquisitions. If you dare." He released her, letting his vines yank her less than gently into the treetops. "Bitch."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
High in the canopy, Hiei smirked, watching as the student before him (Lavender Brown) failed and was lofted, shrieking, into the thick branches.  
  
The branch under him jerked, flipping him sharply to the forest floor. Hiei landed with a grunt on his tailbone. He shoved upright, glaring at the youko.  
  
The fox smirked at him, and raised a finger. "Trying to sneak past? Bad boy."  
  
Hiei leapt to his feet, falling into a defensive stance, facing the fox but his attention focused elsewhere. Eyes on me-- on us. Students? Keep cover, don't know the fox. "You'd've been better off ignoring me, fox," he said flatly.  
  
Youko raised a thin eyebrow at him. "Where's the fun in that, little one?"  
  
They know I have fire magic (damn Valentines--!), so... "You want fun? We'll play, then." Hiei smirked, straightened, and the clearing went up in flames: a pillar of fire around Hiei himself, and a thick circle around the fox.  
  
Youko flung his hands up, shielding his face, and yowled.  
  
"Isn't this fun, fox?" Hiei sneered. Youko peeked out from behind his arms, and their eyes met in perfect understanding.  
  
Good show, Hiei.  
  
Need anything else, fox?  
  
Do as you will. I trust you not to hurt me.  
  
Hiei fanned the flames higher. "Just out of curiosity, what did you do to the green-haired girl?"  
  
Youko growled, then yipped as a flame licked out at him, dangerously close. "She escaped!"  
  
"That's all I wanted to know." Hiei let the flames fall a little lower, and walked to the exit. The spiderweb wove together. Hiei brushed a fingertip along it, flame charring the web to ashes, and left.  
  
The youko howled in fury behind him. "I'll see you DEAD for this, firebaby! DEAD!"  
  
Hiei smirked. Liar.  
  
He reached the edge of the forest, and shut the fire off.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Ten more students served to soothe Youko's (faked) rage.  
  
"It's getting late," he murmured, gazing up towards the sky, hidden behind the thick, gloomy branches. "There can't be too many more of you," he added, glancing sidelong at Harry. The boy's eyes burned at him with the low, banked rage of an animal waiting for an opening, but behind it, lay a gleam of... "Is that fear I see, Potter? Perhaps you're no more than a simple human brat... or perhaps that's fear for someone else?"  
  
In truth, Youko had made his way through every single student... except Hermione Granger. He knew it, and he knew Harry knew it. If you don't snap on this next one, I don't know WHAT else to do..!  
  
"So," he purred knowingly, "there is someone. A friend? A close friend... a best friend, perhaps? Such a strange, human concept, friendship... so very... exploitable. Shall I keep this best friend of yours?"  
  
Harry hissed behind his gag.  
  
"Perhaps I shall," Youko said decisively. He covered Harry once more. Please please please tap into your core magic already! I don't want to... I CAN'T hurt Hermione, but her power is useless in combat--! Surely you know that!  
  
Hermione burst into the clearing, irritably shoving her hair out of her face, and stopped short, staring at Youko. "Um..." she sputtered, "um... I apologize for intruding on your territory!" She bowed deeply, hands sweeping oddly out around her.  
  
Oh, bravo, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor, for having the only two students to remember Genkai's warning!  
  
Hermione straightened, hands slipping behind her back. "Sir fox, I beg leave to pass peacefully through your territory."  
  
Youko raised an eyebrow. Under most circumstances, that would be enough to gain her passage. As it is, though, with Harry still unable to use his core magic -- I strongly suspect him of being blocked --  
  
"I think not," Youko said, snapping his arm out and down. Spidervine blasted at Hermione, following his gesture... and split just over her head, tearing into the ground on either side of her, as she belatedly ducked.  
  
What the--?!  
  
"What did you do, girl?!" Youko snarled.  
  
Hermione straightened, bringing her shaking hands out from behind her back, and raised the right one. A quill glowed dimly between her fingers.  
  
Youko peered at the ground around Hermione's feet. She stood in a circle of scribbled ink, splattered over the vines and dirt. "Wards--!" he hissed.  
  
"Yes," Hermione whispered.  
  
"Sneaky little vixen..." She'd used her sweeping bow to hide the movements of drawing her circle. "How long do you plan to stay there?" Hermione wouldn't risk failing the test, would she?  
  
"I don't," Hermione answered more loudly, voice shrill and shaky. She lifted her quill again, and scribbled in the air, snapping her wrist oddly. A line of ink flung itself outwards across the clearing, landing on the forest floor in a strip of the distinctive swirls of anti-demon wards. The line neatly bisected the clearing, with Youko on one side, and the exit on the other.  
  
Very, very good, Youko thought, growling as Hermione ran from her circle towards the exit. But I can't let you go. He swept a wide swath of the spidervine out from under the warding, breaking the line, and leapt through. A hand fisted in Hermione's hair; the other spread against her collarbone, stopping her short so he couldn't yank any hair from her head. She kicked, her hands catching at his instinctively.  
  
Something traced suddenly over the back of his hand. A swirl of wet, then fiery pain exploded in it. Youko screamed, letting Hermione go, clutching at his sizzling hand. The same pain snapped at his other hand, and he let go quickly.  
  
She warded ME--! he thought wildly, as Hermione darted through the exit and vanished into the Forest. It wasn't just instinctive, she warded ME--!  
  
"Filthy human BITCH!"  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry cringed, biting down on the last shreds of his gag as the demon stalked across the clearing to him, tail lashing and blood starting to trickle along his hand.  
  
"NONE of them -- none! -- are worth keeping," he snapped chillingly, swooping down to snarl in Harry's face. "I was going to let them free once we were clear, but now they can all hang!" Youko snatched Harry up by the front of his shirt (the rope of web lacing Harry and Kurama together slid free), threw Harry over his shoulder, and scooped Kurama up in his other arm.  
  
Youko stood, dizzyingly, and Harry would've kicked except his feet were pinned between Kurama's leg and Youko's hip. "The little bitch!" Youko muttered, spinning on a heel and storming from the clearing.  
  
Harry chewed frantically on his gag. Almost there... almost... bloody stupid stretchy foul webby thing!  
  
"She'll never see you again! Never! I'll-- I'll owl her locks of your hair and pictures--!"  
  
From his tone, I don't want to know what sort of pictures those would be. I bloody DON'T.  
  
"And the fire brat gets the same for the redhead--! Worse!"  
  
Harry couldn't get his teeth to close on the last few threads of the gag, not past the thick wad of moss in his mouth. And the gag kept him from spitting it out. Damn it all to hell--! And he swallowed the moss.  
  
The youko didn't notice the gulp, still muttering under his breath, his tail lashing, and Harry quickly chomped through the last bit of the gag. It fell free, and before Harry realized what he had in mind, he'd opened his mouth and bit down on the tip of the demon's tail.  
  
"AAAAHHHH!" the demon yowled, dropping Kurama. Harry swung his freed feet and kicked him in the stomach, and Youko doubled over. Harry fell from Youko's shoulder, landing on his backside with a jarring thump that knocked his knife loose to slice through his wrist bonds.  
  
Still reacting rather than thinking, Harry grabbed the knife and slashed up at the demon. Youko shoved himself backwards, but the sharp tip sliced through his waist sash. The stolen wands dropped into Harry's lap, and he scooped them up.  
  
Demon dementor close enough-- "Expecto Patronum!"  
  
Heat lashed Harry's hand, and he dropped Kurama's wand with a yelp as sparks shot out from it. The familiar silver stag leapt from Harry's own wand.  
  
Harry blinked. Not-quite-overlaying his stag was a shadowy afterimage, pewter to his Patronus' silver, little more than an outline of the stag. His own Patronus prodded the demon backwards, away from Harry, but the second lashed its antlers through the demon.  
  
It howled in rage, swiping at the Patroni with its claws, screeching when the silver stag slammed him up against a tree and the pewter outline leapt to vanish into the demon.  
  
What am I doing sitting here?! Harry realized. He switched the knife and Kurama's wand to his off hand, and flicked his own wand at Kurama. "Mobilicorpus!"  
  
Kurama rose a few feet off the ground. Harry slashed through his ankle ties, leapt to his feet, caught Kurama by the nearest available handhold (his sleeve, as it happened), and ran for his life. He leapt over tree roots, nearly invisible in the dusky gloom, skidding on leaf litter and tearing through whiplike underbrush, barely keeping the concentration needed to hold the Mobilicorpus -- but he couldn't afford the seconds lost if he dropped Kurama.  
  
Get out get to Genkai get out get to Genkai get out--  
  
The color of the light changed, and a half-second later Harry burst from the trees onto the school lawn. The brightly-draped Quidditch stadium soared across the way, and a scattering of students sat or lay near it. Several of them jumped to their feet, running towards him.  
  
A surge of relief broke Harry's concentration. Kurama dropped to the lawn.  
  
"Harry!" Ron and Hermione yelled in unison.  
  
"Kurama!" Yuusuke, Kuwabara, Botan, and Yukina chorused more raggedly.  
  
Harry bent, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, as students swarmed around him. A hand on his head brought him face-to-face with Genkai. "Profess--" not enough air "Demon!" he said instead, waving urgently back at the Forest.  
  
"She knows, Harry," Hermione told him unhappily.  
  
She what?  
  
"It was part of the test, Potter," Genkai explained, gruff and brisk, with the air of someone who'd had to explain several times already. "I encountered him a few weeks back, and he offered a deal. This is his payment... though he was not allowed to harm anybody," she added more sourly, turning to look at Kurama.  
  
Harry looked over as well. Yuusuke and Kuwabara had Kurama propped up, and Yukina held her hand over the bruise on his temple. Hiei knelt before the Slytherin, one hand tipping Kurama's face up as he peered closely at the patch of webbing stuck over Kurama's mouth.  
  
"The damage isn't too bad, Professor," Yukina said quietly. "Just bruises... I think the phrase is 'got the wind knocked out of him'? At least, that's my guess."  
  
"He wasn't supposed to do any harm," Genkai snapped.  
  
A different voice, low and dark, answered. "I'm not responsible for accidents."  
  
Harry tensed and spun, scrabbling for his wand.  
  
The youko--!  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Youko leaned against a tree, examining the claws on his undamaged hand and pretending not to notice as half the small crowd mere meters from him whirled to face him, varying expressions of horror and fear on their faces.  
  
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Yuusuke, Kuwabara, Botan -- hah, and barely a glance from Hiei or Yukina.  
  
"Put your stupid wands away, the game's over," Youko told the students. "I'm just putting away the pieces." He made a beckoning gesture at the treetops, and over thirty gray-white cocoons appeared, dangling from thick spidervines as he lowered the failures gently to the ground. "Not a one hurt, bitch," he told Genkai. "Except that first one there -- you humans are so frail."  
  
Harry burst free of his friends' support. "You told me you were going to just leave them!"  
  
Youko rolled his eyes. "I lied." Harry sputtered, and Youko turned back to Genkai. "I was extra careful with the rest of them. The contract still stands."  
  
"Mm... maybe," Genkai responded. "If Kurama fully recovers, the contract stands. If not..."  
  
Youko ignored that. They'd find the drug in the spidervine was harmless.  
  
Turning his attention to Harry's friends, Youko pointed with a single, clawed finger. "You. Vixen." Hermione froze, hand twitching towards her wand as he brought his bleeding hand out from behind the tree, displaying the anti-demon ward etched into the skin. "Take this off."  
  
At the corner of Youko's vision, Hiei caught Yukina's arm before she could take a step. Thank you, Hiei... it wouldn't do for her to come running fearlessly over to 'the demon' now. Too suspicious. I didn't go through this mess to raise suspicions again.  
  
He waited as Hermione bit her lip, visibly torn.  
  
What's it going to be, little Gryffindor? Your morals or your common sense?  
  
Hermione's grip on her wand tightened. "Ron, Harry... cover me."  
  
Every Hogwarts student's jaw dropped, but Ron and Harry raised their wands in wordless trust. Ron's chesspiece appeared in his free hand, and as Hermione stepped forward, they circled away to keep Youko in a crossfire.  
  
Youko raised an eyebrow, covering his shock. I wasn't expecting it to be that easy... I thought I'd have to goad her. "Really going to make a deal with a demon, vixen?" he asked snidely.  
  
She stopped while still out of Youko's reach. "You're the one making the deal, not me. What do I get if I remove the ward?"  
  
Youko bared his teeth. "I won't kill you for casting it in the first place," he snarled.  
  
"How about you don't kill me at all?" Hermione raised her chin higher, authoritatively. Youko growled. "Those are my conditions."  
  
"Too smart..." Youko grumbled. But not quite smart enough... "Fine," Youko said, holding his hand out imperiously. "Get rid of it."  
  
Hermione stepped within range, and gently took Youko's hand in her own shaking hands, wand clenched in a white-knuckled fist under Youko's palm. "I can't promise it'll work," she said, voice shrill with fear.  
  
"If you don't deliver, vixen, neither will I," Youko warned.  
  
Hermione bit her lip once more. Then, she lifted her left hand, and the glowing quill reappeared. She flipped it around, so the feathered end pointed down, then brushed it slowly from the end of the ward to Youko's wrist. The pain vanished, and Youko untensed in relief. Pulling his hand free, he brought his up to his mouth and licked the blood from his skin. He kept his eyes pinned to Hermione, not allowing her to slip away.  
  
"A secret, then," he said, just loudly enough for the words to carry to the students, so he wouldn't get shot. He bent closer (she took an involuntary step back) and he smirked faintly. "One... learn better wording.  You left me free to attack you non-lethally, or kill your friends or family for injuring me," she blanched, as he cheerfully finished, "though this time I won't.  Two... your famous friend needs to go to the hospital. The gag he swallowed was poisonous."  
  



	43. Blackouts and Observations

  
  
  
  
"Poison?!" Hermione yelped.  
  
Harry blinked, almost lowering his wand, as she spun away from the youko. The demon vanished into the Forest, smirking, as Hermione darted to Harry, grabbing his arm.  
  
"We need to get you to the Hospital Wing!" she snapped, yanking him towards the castle. Harry stumbled backwards a few steps before managing to turn so he could run in the same direction as Hermione. "What were you thinking?! Eating an unknown-- whatever it was he gagged you with? You swallowed it?!"  
  
Would she rather he'd let himself and Kurama be kidnapped by a demon? "Hermione..."  
  
"If you die I will never forgive you!"  
  
Wait, what? "Die? What--?"  
  
"It was poisonous you idiot!" she said, voice tight, as Ron caught up with them.  
  
"Poison--?!" Harry repeated, feeling very, very stupid. "But... I feel fine... he poisoned me?!"  
  
Hermione started pulling faster, brainstorming aloud as they ran. "Genkai said he wasn't allowed to harm us--"  
  
"Poison sounds bloody harmful to me," Ron muttered.  
  
"--but he said he wasn't responsible for accidents, and you could argue that the poisoning was entirely your own fault for eating the gag--"  
  
"I couldn't bite through it with my mouth full!" Harry protested.  
  
Hermione dragged him through the outer gate, so quickly it made Harry's head spin. "You could've found another way!"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah right."  
  
"You're not helping, Ron!" she snapped.  
  
"Neither are you!" he shot back, shoving the door to the school open with an echoing crash. Harry nearly tripped on the threshold, and Ron caught him under Harry's free arm. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah." Sort of. The floor was more uneven than Harry remembered.  
  
"Hermione, I think it's starting to take effect."  
  
She darted under Harry's other arm, and they both steadied him. "How long do you think it's been since you escaped the demon?" Hermione asked as they crossed the broad foyer.  
  
"I dunno... fifteen minutes or so?" He'd eaten the gag, kicked, cut free, cast a spell, run through the woods -- but that hadn't really taken so long, had it? Then there had been the bit of talk, Genkai and Hermione and Youko... "Maybe ten."  
  
Hermione bit her lip. "If it's like Muggle medicine, it should take about twenty minutes to reach full effect."  
  
"Why should it be like Muggle medicine?" Ron asked, as they started up the stairs.  
  
"Because magical ones work immediately," Hermione answered sharply.  
  
"Well that's bloody stupid," Ron snapped.  
  
"It's not stupid when it might be the only reason Harry hasn't dropped dead!" Hermione shot back. The pair of them paled at Hermione's outburst, glanced at Harry, back at each other, and double-timed it upstairs to the Infirmary in silence.  
  
Since their hands were full, helping Harry stand upright on the tilting floor, Ron kicked the door open.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione shouted, as they settled Harry to sit on the nearest bed. "Madam Pomfrey!"  
  
Pomfrey bustled out of her office, pushing a cartful of medical supplies -- it looked like she'd been waiting for casualties. Damn teachers all knew about this...? Harry thought dazedly.  
  
"Let's hear it," Pomfrey ordered, brandishing her wand.  
  
"Harry was gagged and he swallowed the moss and it was poison--" Hermione said hurriedly.  
  
"Then what are you standing here for?!" Pomfrey snapped. "There's Floo powder in my office; get Snape and Sprout up here! Now!"  
  
Ron and Hermione bolted, nearly crashing into Kuwabara and Kurama as the Tantei entered the Infirmary. They skidded around the Japanese students and into Pomfrey's office.  
  
"Him too?" Pomfrey asked briskly. She waved at the next bed, not letting them answer. "Just put him there. How many more are coming from this insanity?"  
  
"No one, ma'am," Yukina answered, as Kuwabara carefully lay Kurama onto the bed.  
  
"Good." She turned back to Harry. "How much did you swallow?"  
  
"Um... a mouthful," Harry answered.  
  
Pomfrey tsked, and swept up a vial. "Hold out your arm, Potter." Harry did so, and she flicked her wand at it. A shocking pinch made him yelp, and he glanced up to see Pomfrey capping the vial, now full of red liquid.  
  
What the--?  
  
Snape stormed from Pomfrey's office, streaked with soot from the Floo. "Well?" he snarled at the nurse.  
  
"Here's his bloodwork," Pomfrey told Severus, handing him the vial of red liquid.  
  
My what?! "That's my blood?" Harry yelped, leaping to his feet and toppling forward. A broad arm kept him from landing facefirst on the stone floor.  
  
"Whoa," Kuwabara told him, lifting Harry back onto the bed. "Not so fast--"  
  
"That's my blood! They took my blood!" Harry yelled, pressing forward furiously, ignoring the spinning room.  
  
Snape sneered down his very large nose at Harry. "Do be quiet, Potter. Or would you prefer that we not know what poison to counteract to save your miserable life?"  
  
"I would prefer," Harry hissed, "that my blood stayed in my body instead of being collected for some ritual!" He spat the last word, with all the emotion of his experience with Voldemort and the Third Task.  
  
"How unfortunate that your stupidity does not allow for that," Snape replied coldly. "Perhaps you'll learn not to go about poisoning yourself on a whim!"  
  
"A whim--?!"  
  
Hiei stalked around the bed and swiped the vial from Snape's hand. "Work now, fight later," he snapped at both of them. "Potter isn't the only patient."  
  
Snape glared, but turned to Kurama, bending over the unconscious redhead to peer at the patch of sticky webbing over his mouth.  
  
Hiei turned to Harry and shoved the vial into his hands. "Keep it and ride out the poison," he said, half his attention on Kurama, "or give it away and get cured. You might survive either way, since you aren't dead yet."  
  
Harry clutched at the vial, swaying slightly. "What would you do?" he asked, feeling his adrenaline levels dropping once more -- the room was spinning faster.  
  
"Keep it," Hiei answered curtly. "Or give it to Kurama, just in case."  
  
Huh? "But K'rama's out cold..."  
  
"Give it to someone you trust," Hiei amended.  
  
"Ron..." Harry mumbled, feeling himself being set prone on the bed. "'Mione..." Hands tugged at the vial. Harry gripped it more tightly.  
  
"It's okay, we've got it," Hermione's voice came.  
  
Harry let go, and dropped into black.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Outside, Youko lounged on his stomach high in a tree, hidden by thick leaves. He watched in amusement as Genkai directed the students to free their failed classmates. Barking out reprimands and conjuring scissors, the professor stalked through the piles of students, showing the wizardborns how to use the scissors, and snapping at the few who tried to sneak away after being freed.  
  
Youko couldn't hear her, but he could almost supply the words. 'Malfoy, you will pick up those shears and cut your classmates free -- I don't give a damn what you think of them; you've failed miserably already, do you want Sunday detention with Yuusuke on top of that? No? Then get your scrawny pureblood butt to work!'  
  
He noticed Draco managed to 'lose' the scissors the instant Genkai turned her back on him, but in Youko's opinion it didn't really matter. Each student freed was another one added to the work force freeing students. Even with the Gryffindor Trio and the Tantei gone, the work was going quickly enough.  
  
Then Genkai reached Keiko's cocoon. Youko leaned a bit farther off his branch; he hadn't quite seen what Keiko had done, but it had left her cocoon a unique, pale, golden-brown color, rather like a cookie or a plank of unstained wood. Under his gaze, Genkai leaned over Keiko, rapping her knuckles against the cocoon and frowning.  
  
Interesting... that seems to be solid, Youko mused. What in the Three Worlds did she DO?  
  
Genkai walked around Keiko, tapping the cocoon at various spots.  
  
Solid... solid... solid... did it give a little, there?... solid again... whatever she did, she made her predicament worse. It would be laughable if it weren't so intriguing... I wonder what that stuff IS? It certainly isn't spidervine anymore...  
  
Genkai managed to wriggle her fingers into the top of the cocoon, just under Keiko's ear. A flash of blue-white light, and it cracked with a resounding snap! that carried all the way to Youko's ears. Another flash, and the entire side shattered.  
  
As Genkai levered the cocoon open like a clamshell, Youko sent a thin vine spiraling down his tree, through the leaf litter and the grass, and twined it around one of the chips from the shattered cocoon. He had the vine pull it back into the forest, taking it to his hand as Genkai began to lecture the now-freed students.  
  
He examined the chip closely. It was wood, alive and oozing the faintest trace of sap from all sides. The grain ran in tightly-packed, faint stripes, thin as thread and softly textured like cloth... like the swathes of spidervine Youko had trapped all the failed students in.  
  
Keiko is Net-class. Merging magics. But what DID she do...?  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
Late that night, after Pomfrey had turned in, after even the oldest students had gone to bed, after the hairline crescent of the moon had set, Hiei stirred. Leaving his position in the darkest shadows near Kurama's hospital bed, he gently pushed the window open and slipped into the night.  
  
The sleeping castle loomed overhead, windows dark, seeming almost abandoned as Hiei flickered across the lawn and back into the Forbidden Forest. Running in the tree branches, he shortly reached the clearing where Youko had tested the students.  
  
"Fox?" he called, immune to the Forest's hushing gloom.  
  
Movement in the pale drapes of spidervine across the way; Youko Kurama sat up, lazily pushing a lock of hair out of his face. "I'm here," he replied quietly.  
  
Hiei leapt to the fox's tree, skidding down a wide, upturned branch to the trunk, and swinging over to Kurama's branch. He folded himself into the crook between branch and trunk, as Kurama sat up more fully.  
  
"It worked," Hiei said flatly. "None of the fifths suspect us of being connected to the fox anymore, and by tomorrow night, none of the NEWT-levels will either."  
  
"You heard."  
  
"Dumbledore announced their test at dinner," Hiei answered. No reply, so Hiei changed the subject. "Was this really necessary? Your double, your drugged sleep, this whole mess?"  
  
Kurama looked away, settling his chin on his knee. "Yes," he murmured solemnly.  
  
Hiei waited. 'Yes'?  
  
"Hiding the connection between my two sides is little more than a side benefit," Kurama continued. "The true purpose of the test... well..."  
  
"Find who can keep their cool under attack," Hiei guessed, getting a nod.  
  
"Not just that." Kurama's tail waved languidly, absently, as he raised a hand and began counting off on his fingers. "Also, frighten them into tapping new uses for their power." Weasley. Granger. Others. "Find who'll betray the side we're working on: Bulstrode, though no one else fell for it."  
  
Hiei nodded curtly. Finding even one backstabber was worth the effort.  
  
"And... discover Harry's power." Kurama sighed. "I really, really wanted to do that."  
  
"You didn't?"  
  
Kurama shook his head. "I don't know."  
  
Settling more comfortably into his perch, Hiei crossed his arms. This could take a while. "Problems?"  
  
Kurama rubbed his face tiredly. "You could say that. He might be a Rogue." Rogue-class. Luck and invention magics. Completely untrainable. "Hermione's wards -- I don't know how I managed to keep my temper through the pain, but I didn't so much as bruise him in retaliation. Then, the gag he swallowed wasn't a full dose of poison. Then..." Kurama went faintly red, "... he bit my tail."  
  
Hiei blinked. "Did he draw blood?" Kurama nodded. "But he's still alive." Instinct alone should've had Kurama ripping Harry's jaw off.  
  
"Then he fell on his knife when I dropped him -- which also shouldn't have happened, but the safety snap popped open -- and instead of stabbing him in the kidneys, or slicing his hands off, it cut his bonds. Not even a scratch."  
  
"The chances of that happening are ridiculous," Hiei said flatly.  
  
"Did you see a knife cut on him?" Kurama asked. Hiei didn't bother to shake his head. "Exactly. Then--"  
  
Hiei's eyebrow shot up. There was more--?  
  
"-- he attacked me with the knife, sliced through my sash, and his wand and mine dropped into his lap." He didn't bother pausing to underscore the impossibly slim chances of that. "At which point, he cast Patronus with both wands -- I don't recommend the experience; it stung like hell -- but my wand didn't hurt him."  
  
"It burned his hand nicely."  
  
"Which took all of two seconds to heal, I would guess."  
  
"Three."  
  
Kurama smirked pointedly, not needing to say that Hiei had just proved his point.  
  
"So he's a luck-class," Hiei concluded.  
  
"No."  
  
Hiei pinched the bridge of his nose. "No?" he repeated.  
  
Kurama leaned back on his branch. "I've had a few hours to think about it, and... One: Rogues don't get blocked -- that's in direct violation of their power. Unlucky, you could say. And we can quite certainly agree that Harry's power was blocked when Genkai tested him. Two: his parents are dead. His family's underfed him and dresses him in rags -- you didn't see him, that first day in Diagon Alley, but you can see his build now. There's a yearbook picture of his father next to Sirius Black--" who, Hiei knew, Kurama had met, "--and Harry is far too small for his age by comparison. He should be closer to Ron's size than mine. Plus, his godfather is innocent, but on the run."  
  
"That doesn't say much," Hiei pointed out. "Look at Yuusuke. A single, drunkard mother and very little money, for human standards."  
  
"Yuusuke's mother has ties to the yakuza," Kurama answered. "They pay for her apartment and got Yuusuke back in school after his death. She's not the most attentive of human mothers, but Yuusuke is well-fed and decently clothed. And he would go nuts living a more upperclass lifestyle than he does." The fox had a point, Hiei thought, looking away with a scowl. "Harry, though... I don't know. Perhaps we'll examine that more closely later," he added, waving that point aside. "Three. We're here."  
  
Oh. Oh. "Cedric died," Hiei murmured.  
  
Kurama nodded. "Voldemort's ritual succeeded. Harry's deadliest enemy regained his power, in Harry's presence, with Harry's blood."  
  
Therefore, Hiei thought, Harry can't possibly have luck-magic. But he didn't use anything else...  
  
"You see the problem. I tried my best, but Harry is firmly, completely blocked."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Disappointment and a short night's sleep left Youko somewhat crabby on Sunday. He plowed irritably through the ranks of NEWT-level Defense students: 6th- and 7th-years he'd had very little to do with during the year. Kurama's powers were so narrowly-focused, only Neville had been fit to tutor with him, and no one from the other Houses had been willing to speak to a Slytherin outside of class.  
  
Youko was quickly discovering just how very isolated Kurama was from the social fabric of the school. He knew the order Genkai had put the students in, just as he had the day before, but a full dozen times already, the students that had appeared had not been the faces he was expecting. They'd been the right students, as evidenced by the powers they'd used, but Youko had mismatched their identities.  
  
This... is not good, Youko thought, as he sent another failed student -- a boy he hadn't recognized at all, Roger Davies -- into the forest's canopy. I've been negligent... but these idiots are such righteous, arrogant jerks with their House snobbery--! I don't want to and can't interact with them much!  
  
... granted, so are many of the fifth-years. But I at least have classes with them.  
  
... I'll keep this in mind and fix it later. Who's next on the list...? Youko thought for a half-second. The Weasley twins. Oh, great. Will I even see them at all?  
  
The entrance side of the clearing exploded in neon-blue smoke.  
  
I'll take that as a "yes". Youko covered his mouth and nose, his eyes half-shutting instinctively as the smoke blew over him. He squinted through the vibrantly-colored, slightly-sticky billows swirling heavily about him, as two figures appeared on the far side of the clearing.  
  
"Well, Gred, looks like your intuition was spot-on, old chap."  
  
"It would seem so, Forge, and might I say that your suggestion was most admirable?"  
  
"Why, thank you, but I believe it was your idea to bring some of our merchandise along."  
  
Their merchandise? Youko thought in unsurprised dismay. Oh, no-- Something tickled up the underside of his tail. Youko yelped, spinning to see nothing but the smoke. Another tickle, this time circling up his front from hip to shoulder, then another (legs), and another (ears)--  
  
But I'm not even ticklish! Youko thought, twitching away from the invisible tickles. He spun once more to face the twins, growling... and choked on the growl as it let the sticky smoke into his mouth. He began to cough and laugh helplessly.  
  
The twins stepped a bit closer, waving their wands carefully to keep the smoke away from themselves. "Terribly sorry about this, sir," one said.  
  
"But we have to get through this test--"  
  
"--and we had a bad feeling about this clearing."  
  
"A feeling which, as you can see, was spot-on."  
  
"We'd like to negotiate--"  
  
"--if you don't mind."  
  
Youko hissed through his laughter, clutching at his sides. Ow-- can't breathe!  
  
The twin on the left spun his wand slowly, and the smoke pulled away from Youko a bit... just enough that he could catch a quick breath between tickles.  
  
"You've just been--"  
  
"--the first demon subject--"  
  
"--of our experimental "Laugh Tracks"--"  
  
"--which we plan to use in ice-cream."  
  
"We have an antidote--"  
  
"--which goes in cones--"  
  
"--or spoons--"  
  
"--but is currently here." The twin on the right lifted a bottle of what looked like cocoa powder. "Now, since there are two of us--"  
  
"--we'd like two favors--"  
  
"--for this bottle."  
  
Youko snarled. "You... can go... HANG..." he muttered between gasps.  
  
They graciously ignored that. "One."  
  
"We'd like free passage."  
  
"Rather obvious, that, wouldn't you say?" the twin on the right commented.  
  
The twin on the left whapped his brother lightly on the arm, chidingly. "Two."  
  
"We'd like one of your hairs," they chorused.  
  
"--please," the one on the left added.  
  
Youko's head snapped up, all the tickling completely forgotten. "YOU WHAT?!" The tickling redoubled, sending Youko to his knees.  
  
"One hair."  
  
"A long one, please."  
  
"We need enough to experiment."  
  
"We've never been able to."  
  
"The stuff's bloody rare--"  
  
"--and expensive."  
  
Youko glared, snorting laughs and clutching his sides in vain. "And... I care... why?"  
  
"Well..." the twins hedged.  
  
"If you keep that up..."  
  
"And don't get the antidote..."  
  
"... it sort of doesn't wear off."  
  
It what?! Youko thought furiously.  
  
"We're working on that!" the twin on the left said quickly.  
  
"Anyways... look, we don't know about demons--"  
  
"-- but in humans, if you laugh too long and hard--"  
  
"-- you get bad effects."  
  
"Torn muscles."  
  
"Oxygen deprivation."  
  
"Pissed pants."  
  
The proverbial fate worse than death, Youko thought dryly. "ONE hair."  
  
"And free passage," the twins reminded him.  
  
"FINE. Free passage."  
  
The one on the left tossed the bottle to him. Youko uncapped it, glanced at it, and paused.  
  
"You inhale," the twins chorused helpfully.  
  
Youko held the bottle close to his nose, and breathed deeply. Immediately, the horrible, maddening tickling eased. He untensed, and breathed again as the twins cast charms to dissipate the smoke. Panting, breathing deeply to stretch and ease the muscles all along his torso, he sat back on his heels. "One hair," he hissed, reaching for his head.  
  
"Wait!" they yelled in unison.  
  
Youko rolled his eyes. "NOW what?"  
  
"We need to harvest it ourselves," one said.  
  
"More potent that way," the other added.  
  
"No," Youko said curtly, crossing his arms. "I am not letting a complete stranger touch me! Particularly not some stinking human!"  
  
They frowned at him. "You said we could."  
  
"Don't argue semantics with me, brats," Youko snapped. "You get a hair; you don't get to touch me to get it."  
  
"Awww...!" they whined.  
  
Youko winced, his ears flattening. "Be quiet; you sound like cubs." He reached for his hair again, and plucked a strand free, kindly selecting one of the longest. He held it out towards the pair, a nearly-invisible thread of silver pinched between a clawed forefinger and thumb. "Well? Take it and get out of here."  
  
The twin on the right all but leapt forward, taking the hair with an almost reverent, joyful greed. Youko twisted his hand to catch the boy's sleeve. "Why didn't you negotiate for your classmates?" he asked quietly.  
  
The boy -- Fred, Youko finally realized -- looked up at him blankly. "You aren't a real threat," he answered simply. "If you were, we would've never been here in the first place. So you have to be part of the test, and nobody's in any danger."  
  
Youko released him with a snort. "Bravo," he said dryly. "Now scram. I've got more people on my list."  
  
Fred beckoned to his twin, waving the strand in his fist, and they bolted for the exit.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry came to slowly, rising out of the dark, painless void into a less-dark, agonizing fog.  
  
Wha--? he thought, dazedly. Did I fall off my broom again? I don't recall Volde--  
  
Then he remembered.  
  
Kurama.  
  
The demon.  
  
The test.  
  
The poison.  
  
Harry's eyes flew open, revealing the starlit Hospital Wing.  
  
How long have I been out? Last he recalled, it was late afternoon... dinnertime, roughly. Now, though, the place carried the peculiar hush of the early-morning hours, only broken by his own ragged, pained breathing and Minamino's quieter, sleep-slow breaths from the next bed. He was just within Harry's line of sight, the gag gone and his hair neat on the pillow, as if he hadn't stirred -- as if he was in a drugged sleep.  
  
Harry tried to shift, to look closer and make sure, but the first twitch seared through his nerves and sent his mouth flying open in a silent scream.  
  
I can't yell--?! My voice won't work--!  
  
A creak echoed through the room. Harry's eyes flicked past Kurama, to one of the windows on the far side of the infirmary. It was slowly swinging open, starlight shining in a gray stream to puddle on the floor. Then a darker shadow cut through the faint light, and the gray detached itself from the outside sill.  
  
Thedemonthedemonthedemonthedemon--!  
  
You bloody well know it's the demon! Harry told himself firmly, as Youko set foot on the floor and slowly, silently stood. Get a grip!  
  
Youko turned, and stepped towards them, slippers silent on the stone floor.  
  
I can't move, can't yell, Kurama's drugged beyond any use and no one's bloody well HERE! Where's Hiei?! He kept vigil over Kurama last time this happened--!  
  
The demon paused at the foot of Kurama's bed, gazing expressionlessly at the unconscious Slytherin. Then his eyes turned to Harry.  
  
Nononononono-- go away!  
  
"You look well, for being half-dead from poison," the demon murmured, barely above a whisper.  
  
Huh?  
  
"Going to kill me yet, Potter? Tap your core magic and finally attack?" He paused a beat. "I thought not. A shame, that. I really wanted to see it."  
  
He... what?  
  
"Go back to sleep, then. I just have one last thing I wanted to do."  
  
Huh?  
  
The demon stepped between Kurama's and Harry's beds, and leaned down over Kurama. His hand tipped Kurama's face up, and he bent forward.  
  
Harry's vision started to darken once more.  
  
A fall of silver hair hid them from view for a moment, then the demon shivered. Slowly, he tilted to the side, crumpled, and puffed into smoke.  
  
Harry returned to the painless void.  
  



	44. Feverdream

  
  
  
  
The next time Harry woke, it was to the sharp rasp of someone drawing back the curtains, and bright morning sunshine glaring into his eyes. He groaned in dismay.  
  
Madam Pomfrey glanced over her shoulder at him, twitching her wand to tie the curtains out of the way. "Awake, are you?" she asked gruffly.  
  
"Yeah..." Harry muttered.  
  
"Thought you weren't going to a time or two, there," she sniffed. "You had a rough time of it, no mistake."  
  
Harry absently reached for his glasses, wincing at sore muscles. Ooh, hey, I can move again... and I've been speaking, too. "I did?" he asked.  
  
A curt nod, and the nurse spelled the bed to sit Harry upright. "That you did. Spent all yesterday delirious, but your fever broke last night."  
  
"Delirious?"  
  
"Fever-dreams," Pomfrey clarified.  
  
I know what the bloody word means. But fever-dreams... "... is that what happened?" Harry murmured to himself.  
  
"Did you say something, Potter?"  
  
Harry looked up. "Um, no, Madam Pomfrey." Nothing important, really.  
  
She accepted that. "Now, then, it's Monday morning; breakfast begins in about half an hour--" Harry's stomach churned uneasily at the thought, "--but Sprout informs me that you likely won't be keeping anything down until afternoon at the earliest. You'll be staying here under observation for another day after you manage a full meal, so don't expect to be out of here until at least Wednesday."  
  
Wednesday. Great. Harry thought, with a hint of sarcasm. What would he do until then? The Hospital Wing was boring and he couldn't sleep with the sun beaming into his face.  
  
The door creaked open. Harry rolled his head to see Hiei step inside, his schoolbag over his shoulder and a slightly-darker-than-usual frown on his face.  
  
"Mornin'," Harry said.  
  
Hiei glanced at him, grunted a wordless reply, and set his bag down next to Kurama's bed. "Is there any change?" he asked the nurse.  
  
"None."  
  
Hiei refocused on Kurama. "Stupid Slytherin..." he muttered under his breath, sitting at the edge of the bed and taking a textbook from his bag.  
  
"Is he..." Harry mentally deleted the word 'okay', since Kurama was obviously not, but found himself without a word to replace it. He twitched his hand to fill in the blank.  
  
"Stable," Hiei answered, eyes flicking up to Harry in some surprise, probably at being asked. "He's bruised and drugged -- with what, they don't know yet -- but they can't find anything else wrong. Not like you."  
  
"Poison, they said?"  
  
Hiei nodded. "Some moss that grows all over that part of the Forest. Convenient, but not safe." He smirked. "I don't think Genkai's demon expected you to actually eat the stuff. Bet it tasted like shit."  
  
Harry snorted. "Pomfrey's potions taste worse."  
  
"Quick lesson in survival, Harry," Hiei said, leaning forward intently. "If it doesn't taste edible, it probably isn't... Pomfrey's potions notwithstanding."  
  
"I didn't have much choice," Harry muttered. Why did everyone seem to think otherwise?  
  
"No, you didn't," Hiei agreed, his smirk falling away. He looked at the unconscious redhead behind him for a long moment, then turned back sharply to face Harry once more. "You did well," he said abruptly.  
  
Huh?  
  
"Most people would've left him to rot," Hiei explained.  
  
Like the Dursleys. The Slytherins. Several anti-Slytherin students in other Houses. "Yeah, well, I'm not one of them," Harry grumbled. "And you didn't hear what that guy was saying, anyway."  
  
"I can guess," Hiei said dryly. "Foxes are playful, and demons mostly amuse themselves with killing or fucking--"  
  
He did NOT just say that?!  
  
"--and you're red enough that he was probably hinting at the latter."  
  
Harry covered his face with his hands. "I am not hearing this."  
  
"You'll hear worse, once Kurama wakes up."  
  
"Maybe I'll be out of here by then." Smug silence. "And stop smirking at me." Harry just knew Hiei was. "You should be bloody furious about this. He's your best friend."  
  
Hiei's voice dropped dangerously. "You don't want to see me furious, Potter."  
  
Harry flinched away, abruptly reminded of Hiei's fight with the demon. Except he sounded more annoyed than actually angry, then. Amused-annoyed. Or annoyed-amused. Something like that.  
  
If that wasn't angry... then no, Harry definitely did NOT want to see Hiei furious.  
  
The door opened once more, this time with a resounding crash that blew Snape into the room. He walked straight to Kurama's bed, all but elbowing Hiei aside.  
  
The little Gryffindor hissed, catching himself against Harry's bed and pivoting as Snape set a vial with the sticky white gag on the nightstand. "What--"  
  
"Quiet, Jaganshi." Snape bent over Kurama, tilting his chin up and gently prying the Slytherin boy's eye open. (Why does that look familiar..? Harry wondered.) As Madame Pomfrey hurried from her office, Snape announced, "The drug is a strong sedative."  
  
"Is that all?" Pomfrey asked.  
  
"That's all," Snape replied, switching to check Kurama's pulse, hand still holding the redhead's chin tilted up. "Judging from his vitals, I'd estimate that he'll wake late this afternoon." Snape's hair slid forward, hiding his face--  
  
Ah-ha! That's it! It's like the youko... ew. Did NOT need that mental image.  
  
\-- and Snape blew the strands back irritably.  
  
So when does HE collapse into smoke? Harry thought giddily, trying to distract himself. Ha, we only wish-- wait. Deja vu again... there was something... I saw that once, didn't I? Something like that...  
  
That time he'd thought Voldemort had killed Snape.  
  
Now I KNOW the demon was a hallucination... mixing up nightmares or something. I'm surprised it wasn't killing unicorns or hovering over Cedric or sporting snakey red eyes.  
  
Snape straightened, allowing Hiei to push past him and sit back on Kurama's bed. Casting a sour glare over the Gryffindor, pausing at his schoolbag, Snape said, "I expect to see you in class today, Jaganshi, regardless of your... friend's... incapacitation."  
  
Hiei opened his history text, pointedly ignoring the professor, and began to read.  
  
"Five points from Gryffindor, Jaganshi," Snape hissed. Getting no response, he snatched up the vial, spun on his heel, and stalked into Madam Pomfrey's office.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Time flowed sluggishly outside darkness, elusive as fish in an ocean. Formless, Kurama curled deeply into streaming webs of magic: cool, intricate designs as ancient as he, built of protective stone and gentle hopes -- bright, warm sparks racing in a counterpoint of smoke-quick life and vibrant emotion; the nearest spark cupped nearby, thrumming quietly, laced with fading hairs of Kurama's power -- a similar, thinning, muffling mist over himself, a security blanket of his Makai drugs...  
  
Mm... 's almost gone...  
  
A heavily-shielded blaze-spark drifted near, hovered, and wandered away again.  
  
Stay...  
  
But it didn't obey, instead sliding to one of the higher points of the web. Confused, Kurama twisted to follow, only to find the mist and web didn't want to let go. He pulled, thrashed, blowing and burning the mist away. The web still refused to release him--  
  
\--and Kurama woke with a gasp, staring at the telltale curtains and ceiling of the infirmary.  
  
"What--?" he asked.  
  
He wasn't expecting a response. "You're awake," Harry Potter said. Kurama rolled his head to see the Gryffindor sitting up in the next bed, dressed in the hospital pajamas and looking little the worse for wear from his encounter with the youko.  
  
"Yes...?" Kurama answered, his situation quickly adding up in his mind. Hospital Wing, Youko, Potter, the test, the rescue, and he had to make a show of having no clue what had happened. "I... the demon! There was--"  
  
"We know," Harry interrupted. "Genkai, I don't know, hired it or something to scare the crap out of us."  
  
Close enough. Kurama frowned, his brow furrowing. "I was fighting him... and he was laughing... and..." Just how much should he pretend to remember? "...and..."  
  
"And what?" Harry prompted.  
  
"... I don't know." He could say he slipped or something, but that was too much control. Let the humans fill in their own explanations; it would be less suspicious than if he knew exactly what happened in the split second between fighting and being unconscious.  
  
Harry was silent for a moment, then offered, "Youko said it was an accident."  
  
Kurama blinked at him. "Youko?"  
  
"Erm..." Harry looked away. "The demon... introduced himself to me. And stuff."  
  
Interesting. Let's hear Harry's take on the situation... It would be suspiscious if he didn't ask. "Why don't you tell me what happened?" Kurama asked. "Seeing as how I missed it."  
  
Harry shook his head. "Maybe you should ask Genkai... or Hiei... or somebody..."  
  
"But they're not here. So I'm asking you." Besides, I can't let you know I know, but you were the only one there to see the entire thing except 'Youko' himself. They'd direct me to you anyways.  
  
Silence, as Harry sullenly stared at his blanket, picking at it.  
  
"Harry?" Kurama asked. Did I... Youko... upset him that much?  
  
More silence.  
  
"... is there something you don't want to tell me?" Kurama asked, warily. "Did he do something to us? Is that why we're in the hospital wing?"  
  
"Drugged you, poisoned me," Harry mumbled.  
  
Kurama gave Harry a dubious look. "Is that all? That can't be all. You wouldn't refuse to tell me if that was all that he did."  
  
That got Harry glaring at him. It was a start.  
  
"Well?" Kurama pressed. Harry looked away once more. "Harry, for Merlin's sake, you're starting to make me think he did something unforgiveable here--"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Then TELL me!"  
  
"FINE." And so he did.  
  
Kurama noticed that Harry skipped over most of the students' tests -- fortunately, since Kurama didn't really want to listen to three dozen repeats of 'so-and-so stared, gibbered, and got lassoed into the treetops' -- and that he'd completely forgotten the demon's visit to the Infirmary the night before. Or wrote it off as one of the symptoms of the poison. At least I won't have to do that -- the shock I had when I saw he was awake...!  
  
"I see," Kurama murmured, when Harry had finished his narrative and returned to staring at any point that wasn't another person -- at the moment, his blankets again. "You rescued me."  
  
"Yeah, I suppose."  
  
"I owe you."  
  
Harry's head shot up. "What? No!"  
  
"I do," Kurama repeated. He thumped his head back against the pillow in a show of not-entirely-feigned annoyance. It's not the same degree of debt as if I was in real danger, but the whole point is that Harry didn't know the danger wasn't real and saved me anyway. "Whether we like it or not. Dammit!" he hissed, putting a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes.  
  
He could almost feel the stare Harry had on him, anyway. "I didn't do it to have some sort of hold over you!" Harry protested.  
  
"Quiet, Harry, I'm calculating," Kurama responded. Shocked silence from the other bed compelled Kurama to explain. Slightly. He stared at the ceiling as he added, "I won't be so appealing to Voldemort anymore--" a strangled sound from Harry, which Kurama ignored, "--but if I seem hostile to you over the debt, he may continue his recruiting attempts instead of switching to assassination."  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
"On the other hand, it's easier to monitor his activities when we know what they are, and if he changes tactics--"  
  
"Kurama--?"  
  
"--it'll be more interesting, but Hiei will probably kill me--"  
  
"Kurama! Hey!"  
  
"--and then there's the fact that he might do something completely unpredictable--"  
  
"What the BLOODY hell are you talking about?!"  
  
Kurama opened his eyes, turning his head slightly to offer Harry a small smile. "I'm a powerful pureblood Slytherin with no known affiliations, Harry. You-Know-Who's been trying to recruit me for months."  
  
Harry gaped at him.  
  
That was fun. Now, then... should I, or shouldn't I? ... I think perhaps I should. The less he needs to go snooping around, the better. Kurama let his smile turn impish. "He has extremely good intelligence in terms of gathering information... and absolutely none when it comes to actually using it, it turns out. He's had his agents actively working on subverting--" Kurama felt his grin widen, "--Yukina."  
  
"YUKIN--!"  
  
"Shh!" Kurama hissed. "He figured out that if you get Yukina, you get Kuwabara and Hiei -- and through Hiei, me. Plus, to all appearances she's a sweet, weak-willed Hufflepuff, correct?" Harry nodded dumbly. "That's where he's tripped up. She's sweet, but weak-willed... hardly."  
  
Harry's expression twisted dubiously.  
  
Thinking of that traitor, I bet. Wormtail, Sirius called him? "She won't give in to threats," Kurama said quietly. "Not on her life, not when it means someone else's. Even little birds. We know."  
  
"You-- how...?" Harry sputtered.  
  
Kurama shook his head. "That's not for me to say. Please don't ask-- it's a painful memory for everyone involved."  
  
Harry visibly bit back another question. The silence allowed Kurama to hear faint, nearly-imperceptible footsteps in the corridor--  
  
... a heavily-shielded blaze-spark drifted near...  
  
\-- and he turned, smiling, as the door opened and Hiei stepped in.  
  
Guessing from the amount of time I should've been unconscious, and the fact that Hiei's in school robes and carrying a bookbag, and I think I smell Potions class on him... it's Monday afternoon, and... "Don't you have Defense?" Kurama asked, in lieu of a greeting.  
  
"Like Genkai cares if I'm there?" Hiei replied, dumping his bookbag at the foot of Kurama's bed. He glanced at Harry. "What are you staring at?"  
  
"Nothing," Harry said hastily, looking away.  
  
"I told him about Yukina," Kurama said.  
  
Hiei shot Kurama a wary glance. "Told him WHAT about Yukina?"  
  
Kurama beamed. "Just that ridiculous plot with Voldemort trying to subvert her to get the rest of us."  
  
"She hasn't even noticed," Hiei scoffed.  
  
"She may never get the chance to," Kurama warned. "As I was just discussing with Harry, Saturday's mess is almost sure to spark You-Know-Who to change tactics, at least in regards to me."  
  
"Wizard's debt," Hiei filled in. "I'll be on guard for the change."  
  
Kurama lay back. "You're welcome."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Slumped in his seat in Defense, Draco pretended to pay attention to Genkai's lecture, but in reality, he was seething.  
  
It had to have been rigged. It just had to. Look -- all those stupid students of hers passed, except the Slytherin and her least experienced student. For Merlin's sake, Longbottom passed (and his "tutor" didn't)! And exactly how many Slytherins passed? One! Pansy! Not me!  
  
I bet if it were Kurama who'd passed, and he was skipping class like that damn rat Jaganshi is, she'd be taking points from Slytherin. She's no better than the rest of the professors! Prejudiced, Muggle-loving, Gryffindor-arse-kissing...  
  
"MALFOY!"  
  
Draco snapped upright in his seat. "Yes?" he squeaked.  
  
"Openly admitting your guilt for a change?" Genkai said dryly. "Very good. Detention."  
  
Wha--what?  
  
As Genkai turned back to the board, a note landed on Draco's desk. He surreptitiously opened it.  
  
She asked if you weren't paying attention. - PP  
  
Draco tore the note from Pansy into shreds. Sneaky little foreign BITCH!  
  
-0-0-0  
  
By the time Defense usually ended, Harry had dozed off once more. Hiei had finished his History reading, Kurama had finished his Arithmancy homework, and Hiei now walked Kurama through the day's Potions lesson.  
  
"It's complete nonsense, Hiei," Kurama said softly. "Boiling any plant that long should leave it a tasteless, useless, colorless mush. How on earth can the potion turn out bright green?"  
  
Hiei tapped the page, his voice equally low, mindful of the sleeping boy in the next bed. "The salt, I think."  
  
"Salt just makes it worse. It raises the boiling point so the potion has to be hotter to simmer."  
  
"Shut up, it's magic."  
  
Kurama tapped the feather end of the quill against Hiei's nose, making him sneeze. "But it takes more power from the brewer to make. I really think this would be less difficult without the salt and with a different boiling time."  
  
"Why the hell do you care?" Hiei asked, swatting the feather away.  
  
Kurama paused. "Because it's annoying?"  
  
Hiei opened his mouth to deliver a stinging retort -- not that he was quite sure what it would be -- but a clatter in the hallway distracted him. He and Kurama glanced up as Hermione, Ron, and Neville trooped into the infirmary, loaded down with schoolbags.  
  
Kurama raised a finger to his mouth in a hushing gesture. "I'm afraid Harry's sleeping," he told them.  
  
"That's okay," Hermione said politely. "We just came to drop off his homework."  
  
"Not that he'd want it," Ron said under his breath.  
  
"How is he?" she continued, as she carefully took texts and parchment from her bag, piling them on the nightstand.  
  
"He's been better," Kurama answered.  
  
Hiei lounged back in his chair. He knew more than Kurama did, since the fox had been asleep during the History class Hiei had skipped that morning. "He's got hydrating and transdermal nutrition charms on him -- he hasn't managed to keep anything down yet."  
  
"He woke for a little while during Potions and Defense," Kurama added, "but I think we bored him back to sleep." He flicked his quill at the homework spread over his lap.  
  
"Honestly," Hermione scoffed fondly, "Harry has no appreciation of knowledge."  
  
"You mean he doesn't give a whit about boring old homework," Ron translated. "He appreciates knowledge of Quidditch just fine."  
  
"That doesn't count!"  
  
"Does too!"  
  
They going to wake Harry, and then we'll have to put up with all of them, Hiei thought.  
  
"If you're going to argue, take it outside, please," Kurama directed, echoing Hiei's thoughts. "Harry needs his rest. He's been through a lot this weekend."  
  
Both Hermione and Ron's mouths snapped shut. Their argument nipped in the bud, they sat rather than leave. Hermione took out a massive book and began to read, casting worried glances at Harry. Ron pulled out his pendant and poured pieces onto the chessboard, then sat silently, watching them move independently over the squares at random.  
  
Instead of sitting with the other two, Neville -- who'd hovered nervously in the background throughout this -- stepped over to Kurama and Hiei. He dropped a seed into the water pitcher, from which several cheery daisies sprang to life, then glanced at Kurama uncertainly.  
  
"Thank you," Kurama said, smiling. His eyes flicked to Hiei, and Hiei hooked an ankle around the leg of a nearby visitor's chair and kicked it over to Neville. "I see you handled the demon better than I did," Kurama added wryly as the boy sat, indicating the hospital surrounding.  
  
"He passed," Hiei said. Not that you didn't know that already.  
  
Neville flushed red, but Kurama's face lit up. "You did?"  
  
"Yeah," Neville murmured.  
  
"But that's wonderful," Kurama told him sincerely. "How did you do it?" Neville mumbled something too garbled and soft to make out.  
  
"By all accounts," Hiei filled in dryly, "he remembered his manners, for one."  
  
Kurama chuckled, rubbing the back of his head ruefully. "Oops. That explains a lot..."  
  
"You aren't... upset?" Neville asked.  
  
Kurama didn't pretend to not understand. "I'm a little embarrassed, and my mother will be terribly disappointed in me, but... how could I be upset? I'm alive."  
  
That sentiment, Hiei understood. Why be upset about surviving?  
  
"But..." Neville started, "well..."  
  
An unidentifiable glint of something -- amusement? resignation? mischief? -- flickered through Kurama's eyes. He added, "And it may be extremely forward of me to say, but I'm too proud of you to be jealous."  
  
 _That's laying it on a bit thick, fox. You watch too much of that human television stuff._  
  
"Really?" Neville asked.  
  
Kurama huffed. "Don't believe me?"  
  
"Um... no, that's not it, but..." he smiled sheepishly. "Ah, well, yes?"  
  
Smart boy, Hiei thought, as Kurama matched Neville's grin.  
  
"You caught me," Kurama said cheerfully. "I'm rather annoyed with myself, as well as all that. Better?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
High above their heads, the bells warning of dinner began to ring. All five of them -- Hiei, Kurama, Neville, Hermione, and Ron -- looked up. Hermione stuffed her book into her bag. "We'll be back after dinner," she said, as Ron slipped his pendant back on, tucking it into his shirt. "If Harry wakes...?"  
  
"We'll tell him, Miss Granger," Kurama answered. Then he turned back to Neville. "You'd best get going, too," he told the boy gently. "I don't think Madam Pomfrey feeds visitors."  
  
Neville stood, and paused. "Can I... come back after dinner?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
Neville glanced at Hiei, who hadn't moved, and Hiei gestured towards the door. "I'll be there in a bit." Or not at all. I'm not spending the whole evening facing only Nice-Kurama.  
  
The five-minute bell rang, and Hermione called, "Come ON, Neville! We'll be in trouble if we're late!"  
  
"In a bit, then," Neville replied. He scooped up his bookbag and left.  
  
Hiei waited, listening. The last echoes of their footsteps faded away, and he turned back to Kurama.  
  
"You," he said, "are creepy when you act like that."  
  
  



	45. Appearances

  
  
  
  
Both Harry and Kurama were released from the Hospital Wing Wednesday evening, with no lasting effects (much to the surprise of the rumor mill).  
  
Harry promptly headed up to Gryffindor Tower, then -- dodging questions, first-years, and Colin's ever-present camera -- hurried up to his dorm. There, Harry found Ron slumped on his bed, glumly staring at his chess set: the pendant-board, the white pieces matching his family, white Pigwidgeon pawns, but no black pieces on the board.  
  
"Hey," Harry greeted.  
  
Ron barely glanced up. "Hey."  
  
Harry dropped his homework on his bed. "What's up?" Harry asked, gaze falling to the game. "Everybody sick of losing to you or something?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "I don't want to play."  
  
"You what?" Harry hadn't heard that right, had he?  
  
"I don't want to play," Ron repeated.  
  
"You don't?"  
  
Ron laid a finger on the top of his king's -- Arthur Weasley's -- head. The piece looked up at him curiously. "I... can't." The piece frowned in a very un-Arthur-like manner and turned away, pouting. "I tried earlier, but the first piece I lost was Ginny." The queen's rook. Harry winced; the piece would've been smashed to rubble. "I can't do that again."  
  
"You can't play at all...?" Harry asked. Ron shook his head. "Your power won't work if you can't."  
  
"Then it bloody won't work," Ron grumbled.  
  
"That can't be right." To get this far and suddenly tangle up in his own power? That was... "There's something off about that. Have you tried to get around it?"  
  
"I can't think of a way," Ron answered. "What am I supposed to do, send them out anyway? Chess takes sacrifices, Harry; I can't pick between my relatives!"  
  
"They're stone, Ron--"  
  
"THEY LOOK LIKE THEM!" Ron shouted, rearing up from his seat.  
  
"THEN CHANGE THEIR LOOKS!" Harry shouted back.  
  
Ron froze, blinking. "Change... their..." He reached blindly for a piece, catching one of the twin knights. Cupping it in his hand, he stared, brow furrowing as he focused.  
  
Harry peered, watching the twin and his horse blink up at them. Slowly, the stone figure's movements froze, the piece taking on a stiff appearance that Ron's set hadn't had for months. The face lost expression, features solidifying into an unrecognizable mask. Ron exhaled, tightening his grip on the chesspiece, then sucked in a breath... and the whole piece melted and reformed into a perfect likeness of Harry. The small piece pulled a broom from its base, hopped on, and attempted to fly, frowning when the base refused to disconnect.  
  
They blinked.  
  
"I think we've proved you can change the pieces," Harry said.  
  
Ron frowned, watching the miniature Harry. "... it's a start."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
By mid-day Thursday, speculation had all but ground to a halt, save for a few stubborn Ravenclaws failing to puzzle out the demon's motivations. The Tantei's complete lack of surprise at Genkai's tactics helped the gossip die down quickly, as students grasped the concept that this was just business as usual for the Defense professor.  
  
Thank all the gods that 'business as usual' is rarely gossip-worthy, Kurama thought, as he hurried to his dorm after lunch. He dropped off his Potions things and grabbed a small, handkerchief-wrapped package from his trunk, then headed upstairs to meet Neville for their usual afternoon tutoring session. Passing the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw 5ths on their way to their own Potions class, waving a response to the Tantei girls' greetings, he turned away from the front hall and navigated the back passages.  
  
At a side door to the outside, he paused, checked his pocket to make sure he'd remembered everything, then pushed the door open. It bumped against Neville's back.  
  
The boy glanced up, brightening a bit.  
  
"Neville?"  
  
"Hi."  
  
Kurama smiled. "Hi. Want to move? We've got a long session today."  
  
Neville stood, letting Kurama open the door fully and pass. "I thought we were finishing woody plants?" he asked, as he fell into step next to Kurama.  
  
"Genkai changed my mind," Kurama lied dryly. He fished the small package out, unwrapping it to reveal the chip of wood Youko had taken from Keiko's cocoon. "We're identifying a new species of... something."  
  
Neville reached for the chip, and paused. "New species?"  
  
"You can take it," Kurama said, offering the chip. Neville did so, lifting the small object before his face to peer at it, and Kurama added, "Something Keiko made during the test. It's certainly nothing I recognize."  
  
Neville squinted. "Are you sure it's even wood? It feels like wool, only..." he pinched at it lengthwise, "it's stiff."  
  
"Well..." Kurama laced his hands behind his head, staring up into the sky, "any ideas how to tell?"  
  
"Test with my power?"  
  
Bingo. "Try it," Kurama said.  
  
Neville stopped in the middle of the lawn. Kurama took another step before pausing, turning to see. A faint shimmer passed over Neville's hand, and the boy met Kurama's eyes. "It's a plant, but..."  
  
Kurama smiled a bit. "But..?"  
  
"It's not wood?" Neville answered uncertainly.  
  
Kurama nodded. "It's doing a very good imitation, isn't it?"  
  
"It's a leaf," Neville decided. "Part of one."  
  
"Won't it make a funny-looking tree?" Kurama asked, holding his hand out for the chip. Neville covered a snicker as he gave it back. Kurama knelt, pushing the leaf against the soft ground. "You might want to stand back a bit," he told Neville, adding power to it. It expanded, sprouting branches, a trunk, roots -- though all in the wrong order -- and settling quickly into an extremely strange-looking sapling.  
  
Unlike most saplings, this tree began with a thick, deeply-grooved trunk. The branches twisted, spreading broadly outward more than upward. Wide leaves the color of raw wood clustered among the branches, filling the lone tree's canopy so no light shone through. Despite the bright sun and the lack of additional trees, the shade under the growing sapling's branches was almost opaque.  
  
The tree grew taller than Kurama could reach, so he ducked into the gloom, laying his hand on the trunk to continue pouring his power in. From here, Neville and the empty lawn almost glowed, as Kurama's eyes tried to adjust to the faintly greenish darkness.  
  
"Kurama...?" Neville asked.  
  
Kurama grinned, though he doubted Neville could see it. "Any opinions?" he asked the boy.  
  
"Not a clue. Do leaves even come in that color?"  
  
"Almost never," Kurama replied. "It reflects too much light, all through the spectrum -- terrible for photosynthesis. This tree probably needs to ingest additional nutrition. I'm guessing it's a meat-eater, like a Venus flytrap or a pitcher plant. It's not built very well to live on any sort of geothermal vent."  
  
Neville tilted his head. "What about a magical vortex?" he asked. "It's a magical plant."  
  
"You think?" Kurama raised an eyebrow.  
  
Neville gestured vaguely at the shade. "It's sort of gathering shadow. Like the Forbidden Forest seemed to, I guess."  
  
"The Forest...?" Kurama paused. Net-class. Mixing magics. Keiko had created this in the Forest, from Kurama's spidervine... which was a carnivorous plant. "Neville, you're brilliant. That's exactly what it must be: a conglomerate of all the Forest's magic."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"This tree, that leaf, was a magical accident," Kurama explained. "What good fortune, though... I wonder what sort of magical properties it has?" He tapped a knuckle against the trunk, and beckoned to Neville. "Come here, see if you can get an idea of those." Neville stepped into the shade obediently, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted, and went to the other side of the tree. Kurama felt Neville's power brush against his, but ignored the familiar touch.  
  
Carnivorous... I wonder how it entices animals to get close enough to catch? Those leaves are a dead giveaway for anything with color vision. "See if you can find anything that looks like fruit, or sense any sort of drug or pheromones."  
  
"It smelled a bit like sugar from the outside," Neville said.  
  
"Yes, exactly like that." And if it uses its leaves for cocoons, like Keiko was in... that means active branches. Kurama loosened his control over the tree a bit on his side, curiously. A branch shot down, leaf snapping around his arm and yanking him off the ground.  
  
"Kurama!" Neville yelped.  
  
"I'm all right!" Kurama responded, re-exerting control, but letting himself dangle. "Though I've definitely confirmed this thing's carnivorous. See if you can find a mouth."  
  
"A mouth?!"  
  
"It's either that or it digests its prey in the leaf, and I can't sense any acids in them to do that."  
  
Neville ducked back behind the trunk. "Who's supposed to be the Gryffindor here again?" he muttered under his breath.  
  
"Not me! This is a very sneaky and Slytherin way of making you do the work!" Kurama called after him.  
  
"Riiiiiight."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Friday afternoon found Harry, Ron, and Hermione in one of the many ground-floor patio corridors of Hogwarts: a stumpy, lonely little hall tucked between the main hall to the greenhouses and the library tower. It was only long enough for one of the arched windowspaces and a doorway, and looked out onto a tiny patch of grass and an ivy-covered wall.  
  
The day was warm enough that the trio had removed their scarves and overrobes, and made a makeshift cushion on the chilly limestone windowsill. They sat there, Ron with his chessboard on his lap, and three small copies of themselves clustered in the center of it.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I haven't been able to find out which language those key runes are in, much less what they say," Hermione continued. "All I can guess at is that he's working a year-spell, and next week is the strongest day for life magic in the whole year. So whatever he's doing... it's going to get its biggest power boost then, most likely."  
  
Ron slumped. "Nothing? We've had six weeks and we have nothing?"  
  
"We know he's after the Tantei," Harry said.  
  
"That may be entirely unrelated, though," Hermione pointed out. "Kurama only told you 'months', right? Not how many months... you've been having these visions since before the Tantei came."  
  
"You're so helpful," Harry muttered. He stood and began to pace before them. (On Ron's chessboard, the tiny Harry piece did the same.) "Okay. What do we know?"  
  
Hermione sat up a bit straighter. "Voldemort is doing a magic ritual every six weeks like clockwork, on the old days of power. You're able to see it."  
  
"He's after the pureblood Tantei, through Yukina," Ron added.  
  
"He sacrifices unicorns for whatever he's doing, so it's Dark magic."  
  
"He's got a direct line to Yukina, through that git Malfoy."  
  
Harry froze.  
  
Hermione glared. "Why are you so focused on Yukina? That might be an entirely different plan!"  
  
"It's the one we know all about and can counter, that's why!" Ron tapped his board. "It's like chess, okay? If you know how your opponent's going to move, you can kick his arse, and we know You-Know-Who's targeting Yukina!"  
  
"But that's not his big plan!"  
  
"We don't know what his big plan is! Find that out and we can come up with a way to fight it -- until then, counterplans are a waste of time!"  
  
"Waste of time--!" Hermione screeched.  
  
Harry sighed and leaned against the wall, waiting for his friends to finish their argument. On the board, the stone pieces copied their movements, mini-Ron and mini-Hermione shouting soundlessly at each other.  
  
What a mess. "Guys, can we get back to the topic? Voldemort?"  
  
"DON'T SAY THAT NAME!" they yelped in stereo.  
  
"It got your attention."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, then pulled a sheet of parchment from her pocket and manifested her quill. "If you insist that Yukina's so important, I've seen her schedule." She began scribbling. "She's got Muggle Studies right now, and then... ooh, she's tutoring Malfoy."  
  
"That git!"  
  
"Ron, hush. Now, next week is some set of holidays in Japan, so she might be preparing for that over the weekend but I don't know what that entails. Here's her class schedule for earlier in the week... look, nothing overlaps with Slytherin, but she's got two free periods on Tuesday."  
  
"What does she usually do during them?"  
  
"How should I know?! We don't exactly run in the same social circles, Harry."  
  
Eep. "Just asking."  
  
Hermione folded the paper and put it away. "We also all have classes." Harry and Ron shot her identical withering looks. "We do! And we can't skip -- especially you, Harry, you're far enough behind as it is."  
  
"I didn't ask to be poisoned."  
  
"Look..." Hermione sighed. "We can keep an eye on her over the weekend, though I really think Hiei does an excellent job of that already, and if we use the Map and Ron's board we might be able to keep an eye on her during class... just how small can you make those pieces, Ron?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "Pretty small, but I can't maintain the board all day and I haven't tried monitoring at a distance like that. What I'm doing now is enough of a strain as it is."  
  
"Well, it's too easy to see anyway," Hermione murmured dismissively. "You wouldn't want to lose points for playing in class..."  
  
"Oh, never," Ron drawled sarcastically. Hermione frowned at him. "What?"  
  
"You're impossible."  
  
"So are you."  
  
Harry quickly interrupted. "So we've got something of a plan. We've gotta go find where she tutors Malfoy," ugh, "and keep watch." Except getting anywhere near Malfoy was not exactly the best way to not get noticed. Huge, noisy fights tended to draw attention. "Let's get the Map."  
  



	46. Golden

  
  
  
  
  
April 30th arrived with no more fanfare than any other day. Harry spent it just as any other Tuesday: ducking a flying Professor Flitwick as Neville and Yuusuke miscast charms, Transfiguring his ferret into a brown-furred flamingo, and so forth. Oddly, although Hermione and Ron bickered more and more shrilly as the day passed, Harry's nerves settled as dinner ended and sunset approached.  
  
I'm getting too used to this, he thought, mechanically changing into his pajamas upstairs in Gryffindor Tower. "Do you have the Map?" he asked Ron.  
  
Ron waved the sheet of parchment at him.  
  
"You'll wake me if--"  
  
"--anything weird happens, right," Ron finished. He fished out his wand and tapped the parchment. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he told it, as Harry finished buttoning his pajama top. "Lessee... Minamino's down in his dorm... Hiei's in the library... his sister's in the courtyard with Kuwabara -- won't he be pissed about that --"  
  
"Just as long as nobody sneaks in and they don't try to sneak out," Harry said, clambering into bed.  
  
Ron tossed him a mock salute before Harry shut the curtains. "Night, Harry."  
  
"Night, Ron."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hiei returned from the library with a heavy, well-subdued copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, Jr. in his bag. Giving the Fat Lady the password, he climbed through the portrait hole into the common room, glancing around for a seat. Most of the places were taken, Gryffindors of every age having gravitated back to the Tower after twilight, but Hiei's preferred spot on the windowsill nearest the fire was open. He flung his cloak over the stone and sat, kicking his bag onto the other half of the sill to keep others from taking the seat, and settled back with his book.  
  
Or, at least, he tried to. He'd had the misfortune to wind up less than two meters from the three Weasley brothers. Ron had a parchment and his chessboard out, and the twins hovered over him, pestering him for a favor of some sort. Hiei couldn't help but overhear.  
  
"Pleeeeeease?"  
  
"We'll promise not to test it on you!"  
  
"We'll promise not to test our next... um... three creations on you!"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes, watching his pieces move. "It won't work, guys."  
  
"Four, then!"  
  
"Come on!"  
  
"It won't work," Ron repeated. "Not 'I won't', but 'it won't'. I don't have that kind of range."  
  
"Ronniekins--"  
  
"Don't call me that."  
  
"--what do you want us to do, go out in the Forest--"  
  
"--chasing the guy--"  
  
"--when we don't even know--"  
  
"--where he is?!"  
  
"We've got cool powers--"  
  
"--but we aren't that looney!"  
  
Out into the Forest? Hiei thought. He lowered his book. "Chasing what guy?" he asked.  
  
"Nobody!" the twins chorused hastily.  
  
Hiei raised an eyebrow, and Ron leaned back in his seat. "They got something from that demon in Genkai's test, and they lost it--"  
  
"We did not!"  
  
"It disappeared!" George added.  
  
"-- and they've gotten it into their heads that they can go find the guy and make him replace it," Ron finished. "And they think they can get me to pinpoint him."  
  
Hiei kept his expression neutral, concluding, "You can't."  
  
"He won't even try!" Fred protested, poking Ron.  
  
Nodding sagely, Hiei said, "Smart of him. The fox left last week."  
  
Their jaws dropped.  
  
"How do you know that?!" all three blurted.  
  
Hiei shrugged. "I was on the roof the night he left." On the roof of the Infirmary, when Youko had snuck into the Hospital Wing to transfer his soul back. "You can spot that silver fur from a kilometer off, and he wasn't trying to hide." Except from everybody who wasn't in on his secret.  
  
"So he's gone?" the twins wailed.  
  
"Long gone," Hiei lied.  
  
"What sort of bloody rotten luck is that?!"  
  
"Yours," Hiei replied, turning back to his book.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama fidgeted with the controls on his telescope, Neptune shifting wildly in and out of focus faster than the lenses could be accountable for. He raised his hand, clenching it into a fist and eyeing his fluttering pulse critically.  
  
A glance up at the sky didn't help.  
  
It's starting too soon, he thought. Dawn isn't for several hours yet.  
  
But the symptoms were unmistakeable: the nearly-imperceptible tremble in his hand, his pulse -- too fast for his age and health -- the way his pupils were dilating wrong...  
  
But it's too soon. What's going ON?  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry woke to an insistent poking on his shoulder. "Nn... wha...?" Bright moonlight streamed through the room, easily letting Harry see Ron without the aid of Lumos.  
  
"Your turn," Ron whispered, straightening as Harry sat up and put his glasses on, yawning.  
  
Tur-- oh. Yeah. Harry's turn. If they were on-schedule, it was about 1 am, then.  
  
"Nothing odd," Ron added, "except Minamino pacing the Slytherin common room."  
  
"Floo?" Harry asked sleepily.  
  
Ron shook his head. "Only Floo-call was Mad-Eye for Dumbledore, and nobody's gotten an owl all night."  
  
Harry took the Map. "Maybe it was too much to expect anything to happen this early."  
  
Ron paused halfway back to his bed. "You sure you're up to this...?"  
  
"We already agreed." Ron was a natural night owl, Harry was used to all-nighters from having to do his homework overnight at the Dursley's, and Hermione was an early riser. It only made sense for them to take watch in that order.  
  
"If you're sure..."  
  
"I'm sure, Ron. Go to sleep."  
  
Sighing, Ron clambered into his bed, shut the curtains, and went to sleep. Harry closed his own curtains, cast Lumos, and settled in for a long night.  
  
Time crawled by as Harry watched the Marauder's Map, gaze flicking for the first sign of someone near the edges of the map -- sneaking on or off the grounds. But eventually, he found his eyes drawn back towards the elaborate lines of the castle proper.  
  
I've never taken the time to actually look at the whole thing, he thought, unfolding it completely. I always just flipped open to the part that showed where I was, and hid it away as quick as I could.  
  
On the map, all the student names crowded together in dorms, except for Kurama. As Ron had said, he paced his common room restlessly.  
  
Professors clustered in a hallway behind a tapestry, save for Dumbledore high in the headmaster's suite, Trelawney asleep in her own tower, and Snape prowling near the Great Hall. Genkai's name had funny Japanese characters eminating from it, turning into "z"s before fading into the parchment.  
  
Of the other castle residents, Peeves hovered near the Infirmary. Myrtle seemed to be inside a wall -- no doubt buried in the plumbing again. Other ghosts piled into the attics and dungeons.  
  
In the Owlry... Huh, Harry thought. I never realized the Map actually shows owls. The birds fluttered about the tower, wide awake, their nightly hunting mostly done. He looked for Hedwig, finding her perched on the roof, Pigwidgeon circling madly around her like a puppy.  
  
Another glance around the sides of the map -- no activity -- and Harry checked on the population again. Kurama/Shuiichi Minamino paced agitated circles in the Slytherin dungeons. Severus Snape passed Gryffindor Tower on his patrol; Harry could picture him throwing a sneer at the sleeping Fat Lady. Hiei slept peacefully two beds over, despite the pleasant weather.  
  
Waitaminute. Just "Hiei"? Harry drew the map closer, squinting. 'Hiei' was, indeed, shown without a last name. On impulse, Harry scooted down to check the Hufflepuff dorms.  
  
'Yukina' and 'Botan' also didn't have last names.  
  
Well, that's bloody odd, Harry thought, biting his lip so he wouldn't voice the thought aloud. Hiei and Yukina... maybe it's something about that messy custody thing they won't talk about.  
  
That can't be right. Even orphans have last names on their birth certificates. Maybe having two different last names for a set of twins is confusing the map.  
  
... that still doesn't explain Botan.  
  
He blew his bangs out of his eyes in aggravation, glancing at his watch (3 am). They make no sense, sometimes. Speaking of which... How do they think Yukina, of all people, can withstand Voldemort? Harry wondered. She's a Hufflepuff. She's not even that strong, magically, according to them. How can she stand up against him? She's all... girly.  
  
Hermione would kill him for that. He quickly rethought that. Yukina was sweet, and gentle, and shy, and quiet, and pretty much everything about her attitude screamed 'protect me!' Not girly, except in the sense of a fairytale princess in a tower or something.  
  
She's really -- Harry yawned -- a complete pushover. A weak link, anybody can see that, that's why Voldemort's trying to recruit her. He yawned again.  
  
He couldn't fall asleep on his watch. Map still in hand, Harry slid past his bedcurtains and headed down to the bathroom, where he splashed his face with cold water. It helped.  
  
Harry wiled away the remaining time down in the common room, playing hang-wizard, and burn-witch, and other games that were impossible to play with only one person. But by the time the sky shone gold-white and cloudless in the east, and Hermione padded downstairs, he'd given up these, too.  
  
"Morning," she said softly, voice fogged with sleep.  
  
Harry sat up, his wand falling from where he'd been trying to balance it on his nose. "Your turn," he said, waving a bit with the Map.  
  
"Long night?"  
  
"Yeah." He dropped the Map into her hand. "Wasted, too. Nothing happened. 'm going back to bed."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama didn't bother with breakfast. The instant he'd heard the first footsteps of an early-rising Slytherin ("early" being some ten minutes before breakfast, since the few windows Slytherin had faced west), panic had surged within his chest -- and other places -- and he'd bolted from the dungeons. Fortunately, he hadn't run into anyone or anything (except one locked oak door, which he'd promptly opened by making the wood pull away from the latch) as he escaped into a bright, sunny morning.  
  
Away... away... need to...  
  
If he wanted to avoid people, there was almost nowhere on the grounds that was safe. The Quidditch pitch had flying lessons, team practices, and almost no real cover. The castle itself... you couldn't be sure of privacy even with a locked door. Perhaps especially with a locked door, considering Harry last solstice. The Forest would be perfect -- the Forest would be where he'd go, if he weren't feeling quite so... much. He usually snuck away to forested areas, but it set up a feedback loop.  
  
I can't handle that on top of this... whatever this is...  
  
The remainder of the grounds were open lawn... except...  
  
The lake shore.  
  
Kurama hurried down the steep, switchbacked path to the rocky strip at the base of the bluff, nearly twisting an ankle as he slid the last few, muddy feet. He glanced around, taking in the view: wide, empty expanse of water to his right and ahead; nearly-sheer cliffs dotted with moss and the occasional clump of grass or ivy to his left; a few scraggly strands of lakeweed trailing in the rippling waves next to his foot; nothing bigger than a stubborn yarrow weed or two.  
  
Perfect.  
  
He tapped into the too-strong power, biting his lip against the rush, and shoved it outwards.  
  
Lakeweed and ivy burst into leaf. Again Kurama pushed, grounding the power, and again they responded. Kurama walked forward, the scraggly plants brightening, tangling, thickening and rushing over stone and water alike.  
  
Several meters farther down the shore, Kurama found a deep notch in the cliff, with a well-placed boulder inside. He sank down onto the stone gratefully, and continued to channel as much power as he could handle outwards.  
  
The angle of the sun changed imperceptibly, the day warmed, the bells of Hogwarts rang for first period, and Kurama ignored them all to push the power out.  
  
I can't... I can't go fast enough...  
  
"Minamino!"  
  
Kurama's eyes popped open -- when had he closed them? -- at the irate, shrill shout.  
  
Not now... please not now...  
  
But Hermione Granger's shadow fell over the opening. "Minamino!" she repeated. "Get out here! You've got class, what are you doing?"  
  
Has she memorized everyone's schedules? And how on earth did she find me...? Kurama wondered, before the excess magic he'd been trying to dissipate surged. He gasped, clutching at the rock he sat on.  
  
"Minamino? Don't make me take points!" She stepped closer, threateningly.  
  
Magic surged almost painfully through Kurama, and he yanked the ivy over the entrance to keep Hermione out.  
  
"Miss Granger--" Kurama bit out. "PLEASE--"  
  
Get away from me!  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Get away from me!  
  
The sentiment stabbed through Hiei's head, stinging with the unmistakable steely taste of Kurama's mind. His hand clenched, snapping the candle he'd been about to light, and the taste in his mouth changed subtly. He'd bitten his tongue hard enough to bruise.  
  
It didn't matter. Dropping the candle, Hiei stood and walked out of Divination, ignoring Trelawney's shocked calls for him to return. He darted down the stairs, out of sight within seconds, and slipped through an outwards-facing window.  
  
Outside, Hiei followed the sense of Kurama to the lake, passing the docks and circling the cliff face. The shore here was narrow, a strip of flat-topped rocks and the occasional patch of mud between the water and the craggy bluff holding up the Great Hall. It provided the most privacy you could get outdoors at the school, with several of the towering niches deep enough to almost be called caves.  
  
It should have been almost barren, but today it was lush with a jungle of greenery. Hiei didn't need to follow the sense of power to find the niche Kurama had picked to hide away in.  
  
Unsurprisingly -- for Hiei knew someone had to be there -- Hermione stood at the mouth of the shallow cave.  
  
"-- skipping class!" she was saying, hands on her hips. "Do you have any idea how bad this looks?"  
  
Hiei crossed his arms. "He's past caring, Granger."  
  
The girl spun to face him, yelping in shock. "Hiei! What-- don't you have class?"  
  
"Yes," he answered curtly, stepping past her to peer into the cave. Kurama sat on a stone near the back, face downturned and posture primly straight. Perhaps Hermione didn't notice, but Hiei did: Kurama's posture was stiff, his hands clenched into fists and white-knuckled on his lap. Hiei took a step forward, and ivy lashed across the entrance, blocking access.  
  
"He's been doing that this whole time," Hermione complained. "I would burn them away, but I'm afraid I'll hit him."  
  
"Kurama, drop the vines," Hiei ordered. "I won't let her in." A long moment passed, then the ivy slowly, warily drew back. Hiei cast a quelling glare at Hermione -- do not make a liar out of me -- and stepped inside the cave. "Kurama..." he said, as he slowly stepped closer, "you know something's wrong. Can you figure out how bad it is?"  
  
A shake of red hair; Kurama's fists clenched tighter.  
  
"Then I will," Hiei said. "Let go." Kurama sucked in a breath, but didn't move. Hiei took another step, and another -- he still wasn't in arm's reach -- another. Another.  
  
Kurama lunged from the stone, hands clamping onto Hiei's wrists. One foot kicked Hiei's out from under them; a twist sent them tumbling to the ground, Kurama's knee landing between Hiei's legs. The fox leaned forward.  
  
"I don't consent," Hiei said flatly. Kurama froze, and Hiei flipped them, jerking his hands free to pin Kurama. "Ten seconds, with an audience, and able to stop," he diagnosed aloud. That was roughly half what it should be. But why...? "Granger, go away. I know the problem, I've figured out the degree -- I need to find the source."  
  
The girl's hand hovered near her wand. "But--"  
  
Hiei's eyes snapped up, and he glared. "I'll meet you in five minutes. Every second's delay hurts him--" he bit back the almost automatic 'you stupid human!', "--and you've violated his privacy enough." She wavered. "I'll explain after I run a quick medical exam."  
  
"But you're not a healer--"  
  
This isn't that kind of medical problem, he wanted to snap. "I just need to find a source. That's something I am an expert in." And she was still just standing there! "Five minutes. Go away or I'll knock you out."  
  
Hermione's jaw dropped. Then, with an offended huff, she pivoted on her heel and stalked away from the entrance. "Five minutes!" she called back. "And I'm staying in earshot!"  
  
What does she think I'm going to do? Hiei thought, shoving his headband up. The Jagan opened, overlaying Hiei's vision with multicolored threads of power. He stared at Kurama's pattern, the delicate matrix thickly shot through with golds, yellows, and greens: the magic of life, throbbing through the ground and vegetation all around, pulsing with Kurama's accelerated heartbeat. Almost none of the fox's proper silver remained visible among the swirling tangle of extra power.  
  
Hiei had never examined Kurama under such conditions, but this was far too much for anyone's health. Where's the excess coming from? He raised his eyes from Kurama to the surroundings, scrutinizing the power in the ground, the air, the walls --  
  
There was a strong, heavily-concentrated flow running from the direction of the castle. From high in one of the towers, in fact, from a small knot that seemed to be deflecting most of the threads of nature's magic from itself... high in the Divination classroom.  
  
Hiei yanked the headband over the Jagan. "Hell..." he whispered, memories flashing through his mind. Setsubun: connecting Neville to the excess. Equinox: Kurama's childishness, treating the castle as his own personal jungle gym, whining about sushi... and Neville, slightly jittery, but otherwise fine, having only that one accident.  
  
"When you have a problem, you really have a problem, don't you, f-- Kurama." He pushed himself up, drawing Kurama with him and resettling the struggling fox to sit on the rock. "Hold on. I'll fix this and come back." A quick twist of his wrist broke Kurama's grip, and he flicked to the mouth of the cave. "Control, Kurama," he said in parting, and darted around the corner.  
  
Hermione stood in the next fold of stone, arms crossed and expression determined. "What was that all about?" she asked sternly.  
  
Hiei gestured for her to fall into step behind him. "I'm fixing the problem."  
  
Hermione, being Hermione, ignored his gesture and walked beside him. "He attacked you!" she blurted.  
  
"Of course he did," Hiei snapped, glaring. "He knows I can stop him."  
  
"Really?" Hermione asked. "It didn't look like he was really thinking very much, honestly."  
  
"He was thinking enough to keep us out," Hiei pointed out.  
  
"And if someone besides you had gone in?" she asked caustically. "What then?"  
  
"It wouldn't have happened," Hiei replied.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Are you so sure it wouldn't have? What if the Weasley twins had been trying to get in?"  
  
He hadn't thought about it, impossible as the idea was, but some wicked impulse spurred Hiei to reply, "They would've probably been dumped in the lake."  
  
"The lake?" She immediately shook her head. "Nevermind. You're trying to distract me. What is going on?" Hermione repeated. "It's not only today. He was acting strange on equinox, and he performed that ritual on Setsubun..." Her voice chilled. "Hiei. What did he do?"  
  
Too sharp. "What do you know?"  
  
"Almost nothing. That's why I'm asking you. He's being affected by the old holidays -- why?"  
  
That was not 'almost nothing'. "Why do you think?" he asked as they began climbing the path up to the front doors.  
  
A moment of silence. "... they're nature holidays. There's a surge in magic, connected to the sun and the local climate, every few weeks. So... Kurama's affected like his plants would be?"  
  
Hiei rolled his eyes. "Very good, Granger." Very bad, Granger. "What else do you know?"  
  
"Er... it was all in strange shamanistic terms," Hermione dithered. "Um... for today, it was... 'the God and the Goddess wed, and from their mating--'"  
  
"That's enough." I have two options. Forbid her to think about or mention this again, or provoke her to put the facts together and then make her deal with it.  
  
The first option would just make her that much more curious. Dammit. "Think, Granger. Everything around him is telling him that it's time for the plants to pollinate, and he's a teenage boy. Even then, he would be able to manage, except it's being reflected back from another person."  
  
Hermione gasped. "Neville!"  
  
Hiei nodded curtly. "He's better at repressing than Kurama. Kurama's lived in his power all his life. I don't think he entirely remembers how to block."  
  
She fell into a wary silence as Hiei led her through the school. Then, "What exactly did you mean by 'fix the problem'?"  
  
"What do you think I mean? We take Neville out of class and make him stop repressing. Then we deal with it."  
  
"Please tell me that doesn't mean what I think it means..."  
  
Hiei didn't smirk at Hermione's dismay. She was working with limited information. "No. You know where Sprout keeps her sick plants?"  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"You'll start there." He stopped at the trapdoor into Trelawney's classroom. "If she asks, Genkai sent you."  
  
Hermione, visibly too off-balance to question that, climbed the ladder and knocked on the trapdoor. Hiei edged back out of sight; he didn't need the hassle of putting up with Trelawney after he'd walked out of her class. Low, tense voices -- Hermione's and Trelawney's, both dripping with cold disdain -- floated from the trapdoor, along with a thin haze of incense.  
  
Huh. Never knew Granger and Trelawney disliked each other that much. But it didn't matter, as long as she got Neville out of there. What's taking so long? Hurry up.  
  
Another several minutes passed, then Hermione climbed back down the ladder, with Neville in tow. She looked around as Neville replaced the ladder, his foot tapping rapidly against the stones.  
  
"Hiei?" she called softly.  
  
Neville spun. "I thought you told Trelawney you hadn't seen Hiei," he said.  
  
"She lied," Hiei said dryly, stepping into view.  
  
Neville blinked. "What is going on?" he demanded, thankfully keeping his voice low.  
  
"You, baka, are going to--" Hiei began. Hermione interrupted.  
  
"There's some sort of magical power spike going on, Nev, and because you didn't know about it, and are trying to ignore it, and because Kurama's got the same kind of power that you have, he's getting knocked in the teeth with it. You need to go down to the greenhouses and grow some plants."  
  
Hiei stared in considerable surprise -- he thought humans needed to breathe more often than that.  
  
Neville blinked again. "Um... okay. I'll go fix some of the wilting plants in greenhouse five. Apologize to Kurama for me."  
  
Hiei found his voice again. "Make more if you run out. I don't care how, just make sure you're spending as much power as possible until curfew."  
  
Hermione shot a sharp look at Hiei. "Please," she added for him.  
  
"Right," Neville agreed cheerfully. "I'm off. See you both at curfew!" And he clattered down the stairs, pausing just once halfway down. "I don't have a pass!" he called back.  
  
If anybody heard that--! Hiei ran down the stairs. "Genkai will give you one."  
  
Neville nodded. "Thanks." He hurried the rest of the way down the stairs, Hiei and Hermione following in his wake. At the bottom, Neville took the left-hand corridor; Hiei turned right.  
  
"Wait!" Hermione said, catching his sleeve. "Where are you going?"  
  
Hiei shook free. "To handle Kurama. You go explain things to Genkai."  
  
As soon as the human girl was out of sight, Hiei made for the nearest window.  
  
If only dealing with Kurama would be as simple as he had made it sound.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Hermione returned the Map to Harry at lunch, with a low, "Something weird happened, but it's nothing to do with... er... Him."  
  
'Him' sounded like she meant 'You-Know-Who', Voldemort. Unsurprising that she wouldn't say so at a crowded lunch table. But what could she possibly be talking about...? Harry wondered.  
  
The three of them lagged behind the rest of their Herbology class, as the small, two-House group flowed noisily towards the greenhouses. When they'd turned into the corridor and finally, fully separated from the students heading towards other classes, Hermione explained her extremely odd morning.  
  
Following Minamino on the Map during her free period. Hiei inexplicably showing up -- ("So that's why he ran out of Divination like that!" Ron whispered excitedly.) -- and curtly taking over. The aborted attack. The way Hiei had chased her off to do a 'medical exam' of some sort. The resulting problem with Neville. The way Hermione had butted in before Hiei's overreaction made him lash out at Neville.  
  
"So now Neville's in fixing Sprout's sick plants. I don't know why Kurama isn't," she finished, as they reached the row of greenhouses. Harry's eyes slid to the one Neville was using, able to see a veritable jungle within.  
  
Yukina drifted away from the crowd milling at the entrance to the fifth-year third-term greenhouse, and silently opened the door to Neville's. Abruptly, the glass frosted over, and she quickly shut the door and returned to the class.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The sun had long since set when the excess power finally ebbed away. Kurama collapsed to the cool ground and rolled to his side, panting. Next to him, still on his back from their final round, Hiei lay, breathing just as hard. A faint wind off the lake made them shiver, torn clothes providing little barrier against the breeze, and Hiei automatically raised his temperature a little.  
  
All too quickly, the wind began to dry Hiei's sweaty skin, his clothing sticking and itching with salt, traces of ash, dirt and sap, and not a few traces of blood.  
  
Ew, Hiei thought, pushing himself shakily to his feet. He staggered to the lake and -- with a grimace -- dunked himself, clothes and all, into the cold water. Crawling out, he raised his temperature another notch, glaring at the fox.  
  
Kurama looked as bad as Hiei felt. His clothes were more singed and burnt in patches than torn like Hiei's -- damn Kurama's rose thorns -- and his hair was a tangled mess, sticking to his face, neck, and back in dark, sweat-soaked locks. His shoulder still bled a little from five deep cuts along the back, clawed in by Hiei's own nails sometime after dark.  
  
"The things I do for you..." Hiei grumbled. They'd come out of fights to-the-death at the Dark Tournament looking better than this. Not many fights, true, but they had.  
  
No answer. The day had taken its toll on Kurama; he'd passed out.   
  



	47. Game, Set, Match

  
  
  
  
Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Hiei woke, stiff and sore and still damp with lakewater. A thin film of mud -- more a slurry of dust and water than actual mud -- plastered him to the rock, and in turn to Kurama, who slept as though he hadn't so much as twitched during the night.  
  
Hiei sat up, eyeing the sky growing pale in the east, frowning. Not long til Gryffindor starts waking... he started to think, interrupted when Kurama stirred.  
  
The fox rolled to his back, blinking in the navy-grey light. "Hiei?" His eyes fell on Hiei, focusing quickly despite the dark. "What...?"  
  
Hiei waited a beat, letting him recall on his own.  
  
A groan. "That was unbelieveable..." Kurama's tone didn't give away whether he meant in a good or bad way. "I've never felt so much power in my life."  
  
"You can blame Neville for that."  
  
Kurama blinked at him, gleams of reflected light in his eyes flickering. "Neville?"  
  
"He repressed his full dose -- and then some -- onto you," Hiei explained.  
  
"Shimatta..." Kurama muttered. "Does he know?"  
  
"Know, yes. Understand, no." Hiei couldn't prevent the next question from spilling out. "Didn't you tell him anything?"  
  
A shrug. "I figured I'd drag him to the greenhouses during lunch and after class..."  
  
And do what? Hiei wondered, his mind supplying a lot of images that didn't fit with Neville's shy personality or Kurama's determined attempts to stay firmly within a paternal or brotherly role. "Idiot," he grumbled.  
  
"... and otherwise manage like I did on equinox," Kurama finished flatly, ignoring Hiei's interruption. Hiei shot him a dark look, and Kurama frowned. "Stop that. I've never had a teenage novice before. There are bound to be miscalculations."  
  
"You call that a miscalculation?"  
  
Kurama didn't answer, eyes sliding past Hiei to stare westwards for a long moment. Hiei followed his gaze, noting the last stars had faded away. They had very little time left.  
  
" ... Did I hurt you?" Kurama asked finally.  
  
Nothing that won't heal in a couple of days. "No."  
  
Kurama politely ignored the lie and pushed himself up, a hand snaking over his shoulder to check the deep scratches clawed from blade to neck. "Then I guess..." his free hand trailed over the wall, two ivy leaves growing obediently to an unnatural size under his singed fingertips, "... it's time we left, isn't it."  
  
Hiei nodded, picking the smaller of the two cloak-sized leaves and settling it over his shoulders. Kurama did the same, and without another word, the two of them returned to the castle.  
  
The hallways stretched cool and dark in the morning twilight, torches long since burnt out and sunrise still behind the mountains. The pair of them parted ways in silence, Kurama disappearing into the dungeons, and Hiei continued upwards towards Gryffindor Tower.  
  
Near the fourth floor, a low, angry mewl sent Hiei leaping into the rafters. He watched warily, perched in a carved, shadowy niche, as Mrs. Norris rounded the corner. She padded along the hall, ears flat to her head, and paused just underneath him. Hiei pressed further back into the niche, the dark ivy blending him into the shadows, as the cat's nostrils flared.  
  
She's caught my scent--! Small wonder, considering the pong of dried sweat, the bits of blood, the damned lakewater; Hiei would have to shower before even attempting to clean his wounds. If he got to the Tower in the first place.  
  
Below him, the cat yowled. Heavy footsteps clumped into hearing.  
  
Filch. Where's the nearest window? I--  
  
A high-pitched, shrieking cackle interrupted Hiei's thoughts. Cold air gusted past him, resolving into Peeves. "Stinky cat! Stinky cat! Nyah!" he yelled, making faces at Mrs. Norris.  
  
"PEEVES!" Filch bellowed.  
  
The poltergeist drew a water balloon from a pocket, and threw it at the cat. Hissing, Mrs. Norris scrambled aside, and Peeves sailed in an upside-down circle around her. "Stinky cat!" The cat swiped at Peeves, then turned and fled. Peeves flew off chasing Mrs. Norris, with Filch in pursuit.  
  
Hiei made it to Gryffindor Tower without further incident, and crept into his dorm. Taking a set of clean pajamas and a first-aid kit from his trunk, Hiei headed to the bathroom. He promptly piled up the leaf-cloak and the torn clothing in an empty rubbish bin, and burnt them; the cloak was suspicious and the clothes beyond repair. He then showered quickly, switching to his bare hands after a single swipe with a washcloth reopened several long scratches. Several patches of skin had been rubbed raw, leaving him unable to use much soap; what little he did use stung.  
  
After his shower, Hiei wrapped the largest, thickest towel he could find around his hips, and sat on the bench with his first aid kit to clean and bandage his wounds. He worked efficiently, this time ignoring the sting of antiseptics.  
  
A wrenched ankle; a bad turn during a bout late in the day, Kurama's ivy yanking in the wrong direction. Raw shins and knees; the stone underfoot had been uneven shale. A large bruise on one hip; slipping on the shore near the height of the afternoon. An almost surprising lack of damage to his stomach; his instincts were too strong to allow anything sharp to touch his bare skin there without getting burnt. His back was scraped, but not too badly. Hiei splashed antiseptic as best he could anyway, then turned to his arms.  
  
His right arm was the lesser damaged, protected from mid-palm to bicep by the warding bandages over Kokuryuuha. Still, they were torn and filthy, revealing wide swathes of the dragon spell tattoo, and he had a few cuts under some of the tears. He replaced the wards, then switched to his left arm, where the damage was the worst.  
  
All I got were cuts and scrapes, he thought, as he wrapped regular bandages around his forearm, copying his right arm's usual wardings. The fox has burns.  
  
... maybe he should apologize for that.  
  
... maybe only if Kurama tried to apologize first.  
  
Shaking his mind away from such thoughts, Hiei pulled the bandage snug, biting the end to hold it while he reached for the next length of cloth -- the bandage was too short.  
  
Ron pushed into the room, yawning. "Morn... " his bleary-eyed gaze landed on Hiei, "...ing? What the bloody hell happened to you?"  
  
"Nffn," Hiei grunted, nearly losing his grip.  
  
Ron set aside his toothbrush and took the loose end from Hiei's mouth, holding it gently but firmly. "Nothing?" he echoed skeptically.  
  
"Training," Hiei said, changing the word. He knotted more cloth onto the end Ron held.  
  
"Sure, because you're supposed to come back from training looking like you got mauled by a hippogryff. I thought you were supposed to be able to kick Kurama's butt." Hiei froze, mid-knot, for only a split second... but it was enough to confirm Ron's guess. "Knew it."  
  
"We're evenly matched," Hiei said flatly.  
  
Ron whistled. "Kurama looks just as bad, then?"  
  
He didn't. Hiei worked in fire, not thorns, and he hadn't been the one on the natural power high. "Shut up."  
  
"I'm just saying--"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Have it your way." Ron turned away and began brushing his teeth. Hiei tied the bandage off, pulled on his pants and shirt, and draped the towel over the rack to dry.  
  
"Ron..."  
  
"Mmf?"  
  
"Don't tell."  
  
"'k."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Later that afternoon, Kurama cajoled a bucket of a variety of raw meat from the House Elves and took it to Keiko's tree. He sat, leaning against the trunk, and lazily watched the lake as thin branches curled down and plucked strips of meat from the bucket.  
  
Light footsteps pressed on the grass, sporadic flickers of magic sparking in the hardy plants. Kurama didn't stir.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Kurama looked up, smiling at Neville. "Hey."  
  
"You... um... you okay? Hermione said you were sort of getting swamped with power yesterday."  
  
That's one way of putting it. "Yes, I was... and I'm all right now."  
  
Neville nodded hesitantly, then quickly said, "I spent the whole day in the greenhouse using power... if it helped..."  
  
"It did," Kurama answered. "A lot." Although... "But surely Professor Sprout didn't have that much work for you to do?"  
  
"Well..." Neville sank to his knees, relaxing considerably, "Yukina kept freezing the whole place. I had to redo my work a good half-dozen times or so... did you know she can make it snow indoors?"  
  
Kurama chuckled behind his hand. "I did. I'll have to thank... her... what?" He'd opened his eyes to see Neville staring in open horror. Kurama followed the boy's gaze to his hand; specifically to the light bandages on his fingers. "Oh. That." He flexed his hand ruefully. "Just a little accident. I wasn't paying attention and grabbed something too hot to handle." Neville stared, and Kurama waved the incident away with a calm, "It's not as if it's the first time. Now, then. I've found this guy's--" Kurama thumped the tree trunk behind him, "--mouth; it's up in that nook where the trunk splits into branches. Get out some seeds and let's see if he'll eat anything but meat."  
  
Neville reached into his pockets and cast a wide arc of seeds on the ground. They sprouted -- leafy greens, vegetables, berries, several edible flowers -- and Neville glanced at Kurama. "Aren't you...?" he gestured at the ground.  
  
"You're doing fine, and I'm tapped out."  
  
"... oh." Neville bit his lip.  
  
A branch curled around one of the tomatoes, snapped it off (taking most of the stem along) and dragged it into the low canopy. A moment later, the tree shuddered and spat it out.  
  
They stared at the crushed fruit. "Well," Kurama murmured, "I guess we can safely say it doesn't like tomatoes."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
In the common room that evening, after doing homework at Hermione's insistance, Harry and Ron pushed the books aside. Hermione pulled out her chart and the lists of Harry's dreams.  
  
"Okay," she said, tapping the paper. "Nothing's happened. No spies, no attacks, no messages, and no vision. Ideas?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "Nothing happened. We picked the wrong day."  
  
"That can't be right," Hermione said, promptly dismissing the idea.  
  
"Um, Hermione," Harry said reasonably, "if we picked the wrong day, then nothing would happen."  
  
She shook her head. "I checked my research and calculations repeatedly. Something had to have happened."  
  
"Well, it didn't," Ron answered. "Harry would've dreamed if it did."  
  
Harry glanced up. "But I didn't."  
  
Ron nodded. "So it didn't. Happen, I mean. Simple."  
  
Hermione sighed and put her face in her hands. "That's not logical, Ron. You can't prove a negative."  
  
"Prove it," Ron retorted.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Very funny." Ron stared at her for a long, skeptical moment. "Fine. You postulate that if Harry didn't dream it, it didn't happen. Well..." she fell silent, considering. "He wouldn't dream if he was awake."  
  
Startled silence.  
  
"Harry..." Ron said slowly, "... you were awake most of the night."  
  
"And," Hermione added, "you do only have those visions in the middle of the night."  
  
Harry swallowed audibly. "We screwed up?"  
  
"We screwed up."  
  
"Bloody hell."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Saturday dawned hazy and warm. After eating a good, but light, breakfast, Draco headed to the locker rooms by the pitch, and changed into his Quidditch uniform. He went through his usual routine: extra gel in his hair (to keep it out of his eyes so he could see the gleam of the Snitch), a less-than-ethical Impervius charm on his broom (and an illegal one on his face: Draco Malfoy did not get broken noses or black eyes), a dusting of Skower's Magical No-Slip All-Grip powder on his immaculately cared-for leather gloves... and a swallow of also-less-than-ethical Flutterby's Nerve-Quelling Potion.  
  
Usually, he would laugh at the idea of taking the potion to play Hufflepuff. Usually, Hufflepuff's team could be beaten while the other team slept. It had taken Dementors to make them win a game in the five years prior to the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This year... had been different.  
  
"Foreign cheating latecomers..." he muttered, hiding the bottle of potion in the back of Montague's locker: the least smelly of the whole team's. "Shouldn't be allowed to try out..." He slammed the locker shut and spun the magilock. Then, grabbing his Nimbus 2001, he lifted his chin and led his team onto the field amid wild cheering from the stands.  
  
High in the Gryffindor seats, Ron tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Look there, Malfoy's acting like he owns the field again."  
  
"We know, Ron," Hermione said, her eyes not on the field. "Is that Lucius up in the professors' box?"  
  
Harry squinted. "Yup."  
  
Madam Hooch stepped between the player lineup, and the stands quieted. "Now, I want a good, clean game," she announced, voice ringing across the pitch without the aid of any charms. She eyed both teams, stern glare lingering a second longer on the Slytherin side, then kicked open the case. The Bludgers blasted upwards, Snitch darting after them and vanishing somewhere in the direction of the Hufflepuff goal (damn -- no quick end to this game, Draco thought), as Madam Hooch blew sharply on her whistle and tossed the Quaffle into play.  
  
"And they're off!" Lee shouted. "Hufflepuff takes the Quaffle--"  
  
Draco quickly looped around the flurry of Chasers and Quaffle, dodging green and yellow, and took position high above the field. He circled, scanning for the Snitch, but within minutes a roar went up from the non-Slytherin crowd.  
  
"Hufflepuff scores!" Lee called out smugly. "Slytherin in possession..."  
  
Draco idly noticed his team working the ball back up the field as he watched for the telltale gleam of gold. A flash of light blue and bright yellow caught his eye. He turned even as Botan intercepted a pass, then shook his head and turned away. Must find the Snitch... Another crowd roar.  
  
"Hufflepuff scores again!" Lee yelled again. "All right Shinime!"  
  
Draco sneered. "All right sheeny-may," he echoed mockingly under his breath. "Blasted girl shouldn't even be on the team..."  
  
In the Gryffindor stands, Yuusuke nearly fell forward onto Ron as he yelled, "Go Hufflepuff!"  
  
"Come on, Botan!" Keiko and Kuwabara shouted in unison.  
  
"Yatta ne, Botan-san!"  
  
Across the way, Hiei scrunched into his seat next to Kurama, watching his sister cheer, and glowering at Kuwabara next to her. She waved a small yellow pennant as players flashed by, beaming at green and yellow alike. As the gong rang for another Hufflepuff goal, Kuwabara bent and offered her a stick of candy. Hiei looked away.  
  
The Seekers were flying almost directly at the Slytherin stands, with MacMillan in the lead by barely a handspan.  
  
I can't afford to assume it's a bluff, Draco thought, pressing a smidgen more speed from his broom. I can't... Another bell; another cheer: Hufflepuff scored. Draco drew even with Ernie, who promptly smirked and pulled away.  
  
Blast you! A feint! Draco flew back above to the sound of a Slytherin cheer that ended in a groan, and tried to sideswipe Botan as she passed the Quaffle. It didn't work.  
  
"Botan-san!" Yukina yelled, leaping to her feet. "Unfair! Get the ref! Are you blind?!" She drew back, glancing from side to side. Everybody within ten feet of her stared in shock. "What?"  
  
"Nothing, Yukina," Keiko said soothingly.  
  
Back on the pitch, resettled into his lofty position, Draco kept watch and seethed. The action below was not going well for his team.  
  
Hufflepuff's supposed to be an easy win! Draco thought furiously, ignoring the bell of another Hufflepuff goal as MacMillan abruptly soared off. Draco kicked his broom into pursuit -- it's another bloody feint, it has to be, but-- and sunlight flashed behind Ernie.  
  
The Snitch! Draco changed course, but the Snitch darted at an oblique angle and vanished once more. Draco cursed under his breath, glancing at the board as Hufflepuff scored yet another goal. The Hufflepuffs were up 100-20, an 80 point lead.  
  
"We're getting bloody trounced!" Draco muttered. The Slytherins booed another goal.  
  
In the Slytherin stands, Kurama booed with the rest, then reached behind him for his juice. His questing hand encountered nothing but bleacher seating. "Eh...?" A glance showed the bottle, almost empty, in Hiei's hand. "Thief," he accused.  
  
Hiei very carefully didn't smirk.  
  
"Every single game..." Kurama sighed. He grew a tangerine to tide him over.  
  
The action on the pitch worsened.  
  
I have to do something! Draco thought. The Snitch was nowhere to be seen, and MacMillan... MacMillan. Of course. Draco swung hard towards the center of the pitch, and dove at full speed. He can feint, I can feint. Take THIS. A Bludger screamed by, nearly knocking him from his broom, but Draco barely noticed. As long as MacMillan was hard on his tail... and the other Seeker was. Draco carefully, carefully nudged his speed down, imperceptibly slowing to let MacMillan catch up. Five meters from the ground. Four, and Ernie drew even with Draco. Three. Two. One -- Draco yanked away with all his might, twisting, robes skimming the grass as he heard a sickening thud.  
  
"A nasty crash for MacMillan, the Wronski Feint used all too well by Slytherin Seeker Malfoy," Lee announced bitterly. The non-Slytherin crowd roared fury. "Madam Pomfrey's taking Hufflepuff Seeker MacMillan off the field, and play resumes."  
  
Draco smirked at the cheering Slytherins. The rest of the Houses didn't matter. HE was going to win...  
  
Bong!  
  
... if the damn Hufflepuffs would just quit scoring! They were up by an even 100. Draco circled in a lazy arc some 60 feet above and forward of the Slytherin Keeper, and waited. Gold, gold, gleam or flash or pop up in front of my face, pleeeeeeeease...  
  
Botan corkscrewed past the Slytherin Chasers and Keeper, scoring another goal, putting the score at 130-20. The Slytherins regained possession of the ball, and the Snitch flicked into sight for a moment -- too quickly for Draco to even react, though his heart leapt into his throat.  
  
Blast!  
  
Derrick passed to Montague, but a well-hit Bludger smacked the Quaffle into the center Slytherin hoop. 140-20, and the crowd burst into even louder cheers.  
  
"This is bloody IMPOSSIBLE!" Draco blurted, unheard over the charm-enhanced clamor.  
  
"HUF-FLE-PUFF! HUF-FLE-PUFF!"  
  
Draco snarled at the crowd. "They're CHEATING," he shouted at them, despite being drowned out by the chant. "The transfer chit is bloody CHEATING and you all know it! We shouldn't be losing to Hufflepuffs!" A Slytherin goal and a half-hearted cheer from his Housemates, nothing to rival the rest of the Houses' yells, answered him.  
  
"HUF-FLE-PUFF!"  
  
In the stands, Kurama sat back, dismayed. "Now that's just rude," he said of the continuing chant.  
  
Hiei's eyes flicked to Kurama. "It'll make it that much better for them if Malfoy catches the Snitch, then."  
  
"True..." Kurama peered up at the tiny blond-and-green blot overhead. "He's our House's only hope now, isn't--" another Hufflepuff goal rang out: 150-30, "--he. Ouch. We'll be insufferable for days if we win."  
  
"You're always insufferable," Hiei responded, blandly watching Draco circle the perimeter of the pitch.  
  
Across the field, Harry watched Malfoy as he scanned the pitch and towers, following and anticipating the blond's gaze. The chant disintegrated into random cheering again, another goal scored against the Slytherins, the Quaffle retaken and battled back up the field... and something glittered near the base of the Slytherin goals.  
  
In the same instant, Harry leapt to his feet and Draco arrowed towards the goalposts.  
  
"It's the Snitch!" Harry yelped.  
  
"Malfoy's seen the Snitch!" Lee yelled. "Dammit Pomfrey let MacMillan back on his broom!"  
  
"JORDAN!"  
  
The crowd burst into yells, the Houses screaming at a fever pitch, all but ignoring the Chasers as they zoomed back towards the goals, Hufflepuff in possession.  
  
"They're going to crash!" someone shrieked.  
  
And Malfoy, heedless of all but the Snitch, slammed into Botan at full speed. The pair went tumbling from their brooms, the Snitch vanishing once more.  
  
"Botan-san!"  
  
"Botan!"  
  
They crashed in a heap and lay crumpled on the ground, green on yellow, light blue hair splayed over the grass. Slowly, Draco pushed himself up. "Ow..." he hissed, blinking his eyes open and staring uncomprehendingly at Botan underneath him. Something moved in the corner of his vision.  
  
The Snitch! It fluttered, tangled in a curl of blue. He quickly reached forward and yanked it free, sitting back to display it to the world in triumph. I won, I won, I won--  
  
Botan's fist slammed into his face.  
  
Some time later, the hazy black receded, revealing blue sky in front of Draco's face, and prickly grass along his back. He stared blankly for a long moment, not quite sure why the cheers he heard seemed to be predominantly female.  
  
Draco turned his head away to check the scoreboard, and gloat over his single-handed saving of Slytherin from the depths of humiliation and the jaws of defeat.  
  
180-180.  
  
Draco blinked.  
  
One... eighty.... to one-eighty? A TIE?  
  
Madam Hooch came into his field of vision, and he snapped upright. "WHO FUDGED THE SCORE?!" he screamed at her.  
  
"Nobody," she replied sharply. "Hufflepuff scored again while you were falling."  
  
An opening! "Falling! Yes! Did you see what that girl did? A foul, I tell you! They should be docked points!" So Slytherin would win like they were supposed to.  
  
"My ruling stands, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
Draco sputtered. "But-- but--!"  
  
A shadow fell over him, and the cold, familiar shape of his father's snakeheaded cane tapped the back of Draco's neck. "Now, now, Draco..." Lucius Malfoy chided, a tiny twitch of the cane commanding Draco to stand properly. Draco quickly obeyed. "Manners. Go apologize to the young lady."  
  
What?! Draco spun, just barely managing to keep the word unspoken, and stared at his father.  
  
Lucius rested the head of his cane on Draco's shoulder. "Miss Shinime has suffered quite the indignity at your hands, Draco. Go," he caught Draco by the arm and physically turned him towards Madam Pomfrey and the gathering crowd around the Hufflepuff team; something heavy landed in Draco's pocket, "and apologize as befits your station."  
  
Draco barely managed to keep from stumbling away.  
  
He's done it. He's done it. Oh Merlin, I'm really going to have to go through with it...  
  



	48. A Number of Discussions

  
  
  
  
On Monday, Genkai passed out a thick scroll to each student in the class. "I don't ordinarily support such nonsense -- if you don't remember now you're certainly not going to remember under attack --" she announced as the last scrolls were distributed, "but this is a study guide. We will be spending the remainder of the year in review."  
  
Joy, Harry thought. All of five weeks before the OWLs. Hermione's going to throw a fit. He opened his scroll, discovering a long outline of notes in a painfully tiny script.  
  
 _Defense OWL Review_  
  
 _Year 1: What Are The Dark Arts?_  
 _Year 2: The Inanimate Dark_  
 _Year 3: Dark Beasts_  
 _Year 4: Dark Practices_  
 _Year 5: The Sentient Dark_  
  
He looked up from his scroll, as Genkai tapped the board. The first two lines scribbled themselves onto the board, and Genkai began to speak. "The Dark Arts, as defined by the Ministry, are those arts that..."  
  
Harry tuned out. He had a very good idea of what the Dark Arts were. Hadn't he lived it for the past five years? Idly browsing through the guide, he worked to recall the lectures of first year.  
  
A hex was not a charm; a jinx was not a hex. Only charms had the complexity to be classified into Light and Dark. Hexes were darker than jinxes.  
  
Painful transfigurations were Dark. A proper transfiguration automatically deadened the pain nerves during the shift.  
  
Potions requiring human tissues of any sort were Dark. Potions that caused pain, death, or injury were Dark.  
  
Anything that caused death, injury, or controlled the victim was Dark.  
  
Any magical plant or creature willing to eat a wizard was Dark.  
  
Harry could almost recall Quirrell pacing nervously in Genkai's place, with that purple turban bobbing when he emphasized a point, the stutter firmly undermining any ability to stay patient and actually listen. He'd written notes to Ron, and later Hermione, drawing Quidditch games and getting more out of Hermione's written comments of "pay attention, he just said that..." than he did from the lectures themselves.  
  
Quirrell. What a weird time to remember him. Or maybe not. The end of the year was coming...  
  
He spent the rest of the class quietly immersed in thought, and when the bell rang, piled his study guide and unused writing supplies into his bag in silence.  
  
"That took bloody forever," Ron griped as they spilled out into the corridor behind the rest of the students. "I'd forgotten how absolutely dull first year was..."  
  
Hermione didn't look up from her study guide. "It was very informative, Ron, though I hadn't realized just how very... simplistic it was." Harry pretended to pay attention, though Ron looked out over the crowd as if looking for someone, as she added, "Just look, all these rules about classifications and absolutely no mention of why!"  
  
"Yeah, Hermione, very interesting," Ron said, patting her on the shoulder, attention pinned to someone near the tail end of the crowd. "I'll be back in a few."  
  
Harry blinked. "What? Where are you--?"  
  
"I'll catch up," Ron said, veering away. Harry and Hermione stared as he tapped Kurama on the shoulder. Kurama glanced up at him in open curiosity, with a hint of surprise, but simply paused in the middle of the hallway. Ron pointed the other direction, and Kurama allowed himself to be escorted away. The last thing Harry heard before they left earshot was Ron, in a less-than-friendly voice, saying, "I think we need to talk."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
To say Kurama was surprised at Ron's request was stretching things a bit. As he let Ron direct him away from their Housemates, he racked his memory for the last time he'd actually spoken to the boy.  
  
Not counting Genkai's test, since he didn't know it was me... the hospital? But I was speaking more to both of Harry's friends at the time. I think I may have said "hi" on Setsubun... New Year's? Christmas? None of those quite seemed right. Inari, I don't think I've spoken to him -- or, rather, he to me -- since the train!  
  
Ron stopped near the end of the corridor. Kurama followed his lead, waiting for the Gryffindor to start. It didn't take long.  
  
"Last week," Ron began, voice tense with concentrated non-hostility, "I found Hiei in the bathroom, looking like he'd gone ten rounds with a manticore and lost."  
  
Kurama carefully didn't laugh at the ridiculousness of Hiei losing to a mere manticore. "And?" he asked neutrally.  
  
Ron glowered. "And I sort of guessed that you'd done it. He didn't say it wasn't, so... what the bloody hell were you thinking?!"  
  
"Well..." Kurama drew the word out, dropping his gaze to the floor and calculating furiously. If he denied, if he lied, if he told the truth, but how much...? "I wasn't. Thinking, that is."  
  
"So you really did beat the crap outta him," Ron growled. "I thought he was your friend! He was bloody limping and you-- you--"  
  
"I wasn't exactly unscathed, either, Weasley," Kurama murmured. "But..." How much to tell? "Hiei's fire is far less versatile than my plants. He wasn't willing to risk killing me, but he refused to leave me in pain."  
  
That brought Ron up short, confusion splashing onto his face like cold water. "Pain?" he echoed.  
  
"There are... side effects to core magic. Most are simple, little things. If you took the challenge from Yuusuke's life, or gave Kuwabara nothing to protect, they'd just... waste away. They don't even realize it, and it can't be used against them really." Kurama offered a wan smile. "Mine's somewhat more complicated, and I'd rather not say more."  
  
Ron stared, agape for a long moment, then his mouth snapped shut. He nodded slowly. "... if you're lying--"  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"IF you are lying, I'll hit you with every jinx my brothers invented and then some."  
  
Thank you thank you THANK you for not being Hermione and plaguing me with questions! Kurama thought, nodding expressionlessly. "I will keep that in mind."  
  
"Good."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The next week, amid a flurry of studying (spearheaded by Hermione), McGonagall began calling 5th-years into her office, one at a time. Harry's appointment got him out of Divination.  
  
"Sit down, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, gesturing to a seat before her desk. Harry sat, and the professor steepled her hands. "This meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and decide which subjects you would like to continue at NEWT-level," she stated, though Harry had figured as much from his classmates' chatter. "Have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave here?"  
  
Harry didn't have much of an idea. "Er..." he murmured, "Well... I thought, maybe, an Auror?" Or a Quidditch player, but that wasn't something to really consider unless he got scouted in 6th or 7th year.  
  
McGonagall nodded, briskly extracting a slim, dark pamphlet from the bottom of a large stack. "A difficult path, Potter," she said. "It requires three years of continued training, and at least five NEWTs, none under 'Exceeds Expectations'. They also run stringent aptitude and character tests."  
  
Harry nodded. It rather made sense they would.  
  
"Well. You'll want to continue in Defense Against the Dark Arts, of course."  
  
"Of course," Harry echoed.  
  
"I would also advise Transfiguration, because Aurors frequently need to Transfigure or Untransfigure in their duties." McGonagall peered at him over her glasses. "And I ought to tell you now, Potter, that I don't accept students with OWLs under 'Exceeds Expectations' into my NEWT-level class. You're averaging about 'Acceptable' at the moment, so best put in some good hard work before the OWL." She glanced at a sheet of parchment, checking it, then added, "You'll also want Charms, very useful, and Potions."  
  
Potions?!  
  
McGonagall offered a slight smile at Harry's expression. "Yes, Potter, I said Potions. Poisons and antidotes are essential study for an Auror. You'll definitely need to study for that; Professor Snape refuses to accept students with less than an 'Outstanding' in their Potions OWL."  
  
Potions?!  
  
"But I would think that, if you are serious in this ambition, a few weeks' worth of hard studying should bring you up to standards." She slid the dark pamphlet across the desk, and Harry took it. Her expression softened a bit. "Professor Lupin considered your Defense work to be exceptional, and Professor Genkai is pleased with your progress, despite the difficulties you've had with her brand of magic."  
  
Really?  
  
"I do believe that concludes our career consultation," the professor finished.  
  
Standing, Harry nodded politely at his Head of House, and turned to leave.  
  
"Harry."  
  
Harry? he wondered, glancing back at his professor. How many times has she called me that?  
  
"I hate to say it," McGonagall warned, "but after you leave you'll be spending a considerable amount of time in the public eye. It can work both for and against you, no matter what you do. Best take that into account."  
  
Both for and against? "Thank you, Professor," Harry responded, almost automatically.  
  
"Dismissed, then."  
  
Harry left, puzzling over those last words.  
  
Both for and against?  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Draco entered Snape's office after only a perfunctory knock. Sitting in the more comfortable of the two chairs before the professor's desk, Draco offered a winning, polite smile at the precise degree for useful people trying to backstab you. "Professor."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy." Snape leaned back in his chair, hands carefully positioned in a skilled dueler's pose -- no visible tension, with unblocked, quick access to his wand. "We are here to discuss your career options, and select those subjects you should continue in sixth and seventh years. You're no doubt going to tend the Malfoy fortune--"  
  
"As is proper," Draco murmured.  
  
Snape nodded. "Therefore, I recommend that you select classes based on your results and interests."  
  
"I will take your advice under consideration," Draco responded.  
  
"Very good. Dismissed."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
"Sit down, Mr. Jaganshi," Professor McGonagall said, gesturing to a seat before her desk. Hiei sat, and the professor sat back. "This meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and decide which subjects you would like to continue at NEWT-level," she stated, with a thin hint of speaking by rote in her voice. "Professor Genkai says that she gave you the relevant information on converting the credits here to your educational system. Have you read it?"  
  
Hiei raised an eyebrow. "No."  
  
The professor blinked. "Do you have any thoughts on a career, despite that?"  
  
"I don't need a job."  
  
"I... see." McGonagall adjusted her glasses. "Unless you are independently wealthy, Jaganshi--"  
  
"I am," Hiei said flatly. He could steal, hunt, defend himself, and find places to sleep safely. That was good enough. If he wanted to live luxuriously, he could hire out as a mercenary.  
  
McGonagall let herself look stunned for only a split second before rallying gracefully. "Regardless, it would be best to have options, Jaganshi, in case you become bored or -- Merlin forbid -- lose your fortune. What do you see yourself doing in the future?"  
  
Hiei stared. Surviving, was all the answer he could think of.  
  
The professor waited several minutes, until it became evident that Hiei wasn't going to answer. "Let's try a different approach, then," she said briskly, picking up a sheet of parchment. "Your best grades are in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, and," she grimaced faintly, "Divination. You're doing adequately in Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology." She thought for a long moment, eyes trailing over the pamphlets spread over her enlarged desk. "Have you considered working with dragons?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Other dangerous beasts?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Your Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Perhaps a temple guard or--?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Cursebreaker--"  
  
"No."  
  
"Auror--"  
  
"NO."  
  
McGonagall sighed. "I strongly recommend that you consider some options, Jaganshi. As it is, though, I can only recommend that you continue in those courses you recieve an 'Exceeds Expectations' or better in, and try to take between six and nine." Hiei nodded sullenly, and she added, "Feel free to speak to me or Genkai if you have any questions." After another minute without a response, she said, "Dismissed."  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
It wasn't until several days after Snape had begun the Slytherin career talks that Kurama got called in.  
  
Ten Galleons says he booted me to the end of the list,Kurama thought wryly. Pity I don't know anyone fool enough to take that bet. I could use the money. He knocked politely on the door, and waited until Snape bid him enter, then edged past the shelves and jars to stand before Snape's desk.  
  
After a moment, during which Snape didn't bother pretending to be busy, he snapped, "Well? Sit down, Minamino." Kurama did, and Snape continued, "We will not pretend that you don't know why you are here. Assuming you have read the materials Professor Genkai gave you, what careers might you possibly be considering?"  
  
Kurama didn't smile. "I was thinking of being a gardener," he replied easily.  
  
Snape blinked, completely taken aback. Then, "You mean a Herbologist."  
  
"No," Kurama corrected. I will not be smug at him I will not be smug at him... "I mean a gardener. Or a landscape architect, if that term is more to your liking." Kurama quickly stifled the impulse to be overtly less than polite to Snape. He was being vindictive enough with his preferred career.  
  
"A... Muggle gardener?" Snape asked, unsuccessfully covering shock with sneering.  
  
"Not entirely," Kurama admitted. "But one who can work in both worlds, yes. I'd like to try something new, though I'll stay in Herbology." Under Snape's astonished stare, Kurama added, "Do you know what someone would pay for a well-designed garden in Japan, magical or Muggle?"  
  
Snape managed to reply, "No."  
  
"You'd be surprised, I'm sure." Kurama thought for a moment. "I suppose I'll have to continue in Charms and Transfiguration, and Potions of course... one wouldn't want a misoriented garden, so Arithmancy and Runes, do you suppose?" He didn't wait for an answer. "And I think I'll continue in History. It's really quite an interesting class."  
  
"You will require an 'Exceeds Expectations', minimum, for all those courses," Snape said, a muscle near his eye twitching violently, "and," he added quickly, nastily, "I require an 'Outstanding' for admittance to Potions."  
  
"Excellent," Kurama replied, smiling politely. That shouldn't be too difficult, except in Charms. "Thank you for your time, Professor. I'll just let myself out, if I'm dismissed?"  
  
Snape gave him a baleful glare. "You are."  
  
"Thank you." Kurama bowed slightly, hiding his amusement, and left.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
By the end of May, several hours of lingering, after-dinner sunshine enticed students from the library, beckoning with promises of timeless, endless days before OWLs.  
  
Hiei wasn't fooled. But he also wasn't willing to lock himself away inside to study, so he spent his evenings with his books and notes on the castle roofs. Sometimes Kurama slipped upstairs to study with him, practicing charms and hexes that worked best on a second person, but always he grew restless and left after just an hour or two.  
  
This particular Thursday, with little more than two weeks left to review, Hiei picked a sun-warmed stretch of rooftop overlooking an empty courtyard near the Infirmary. Most of the school tended towards the wide, sunny lawns on the far side of the castle, near the Quidditch pitch. So in this place away from both lawn and the direct routes to the various dorms, Hiei could study in peace.  
  
He dug sugar quills from his pocket and sucked on them as he slowly worked through the note packet on Transfiguration theory. Six quills, one chocolate frog, and two cross-references later, movement in the courtyard caught his eye.  
  
Hiei stilled, falling silent as Yukina lowered herself to sit on the lip of the courtyard fountain. She folded her hands in her lap, gazing down at the moss-lined stones near her feet, a tiny smile hovering about her mouth.  
  
That's not her usual smile. What IS that expression...? Hiei wondered.  
  
Yukina raised her head and turned, looking directly at Hiei with that strange little smile still playing about her lips. "Please come down, Oniisan."  
  
It wasn't a request. Hiei slid down the roof and swung to the ground. Yukina gestured towards the fountain-seat, eyes kind but request undeniable. Hiei hesitated only a moment before acceeding to it, taking a perch somewhat farther along the lip of the fountain than she'd indicated, and Yukina returned to her contemplation of the flagstones.  
  
Moments passed, with Yukina pondering in gentle silence, and Hiei shifted uncomfortably. What did she want with him? He was... just her fake brother, as far as she was concerned.  
  
... right?  
  
A tiny hitch in Yukina's breathing alerted Hiei, so he wasn't startled when she spoke. "Back in March... you knew I was ill."  
  
As if Hiei could forget. He didn't answer.  
  
"And we both know why," she added. "Which means... you've long since figured out when it'll happen next." Her eyes flicked to him. "Right?"  
  
Hiei shrugged in affirmation. Why bother to deny it?  
  
Yukina's eyes flicked away again, the little smile returning. She unconsciously lifted one slim hand, accustomed to holding a fan that could politely hide her emotions better, clutching it to her chest as if it held such a fan. "I... I've asked Kazuma to stand guard."  
  
Hiei's head snapped up. What?! he thought, biting back his immediate response. "Is that..." sane? wise? "... prudent?" he asked instead, voice tight.  
  
"Probably not," Yukina admitted, her faint smile vanishing. "But... Hiei, he's human." No kidding, Hiei thought, waiting for her to continue. "Even if he lives a long, full life... even with a wizard's lifespan... we'll only have a century at best."  
  
Hiei had been quite aware of that. A century to them was like... only four years to the teenagers they were pretending to be. But... "Why are you telling me this?" he asked. I don't need to know this... I don't want to... Yukina...  
  
"You aren't my peer, but... I'd like to ask you, as family, to be there."  
  
The air stuck in Hiei's throat.  
  



	49. OWLs

  
  
  
  
  
The second weekend of June found the students drawn and pale, their fingers stained with ink and mouths stained with willowbark headache potion. In no year was this more apparent than in fifth and seventh. Many carried books and sheafs of notes everywhere with them, even to meals, studying like mad.  
  
Tonight at dinner, with a steady rain pounding down the illusory ceiling and vanishing within the rafters of the Great Hall, Hiei listened to Hermione mutter lists and techniques under her breath, mumbling around the occasional bite of food.  
  
"That's it," Ron said sharply. He grabbed the notes from Hermione's hands, eliciting a pained squeak. "You eat. I'll read the bloody notes to you."  
  
"But--"  
  
"EAT," Ron ordered. Slowly, Hermione picked up her fork as if she'd never seen one before, speared a potato, and put it in her mouth. "Okay. So you twirl the wand clockwise at a seventy-five degree angle, taking precisely two seconds to complete a three-inch-diameter circle, because--"  
  
Hiei finished his rice and stood, not bothering to excuse himself before he left the Great Hall, heading for the bathroom two corridors and a staircase away. Stupid place to have the nearest bathroom.  
  
"--no trouble," a woman said loudly, "no trouble at all, Headmaster."  
  
Hiei ducked into the shadows, peering into the entrance hall. A small group of soaked witches and wizards clustered near the door, dripping unconcernedly on Filch's floors. The lead witch, a woman barely taller than Genkai, her face furrowed with wrinkles and dotted with age spots, faced Dumbledore. "Always delighted to be here," she continued at the same volume.  
  
Hard of hearing, Hiei realized. Such a human peculiarity to survive...  
  
Dumbledore smiled, and also raising his voice, said, "Always delighted to have you, Professor Marchbanks."  
  
Professor?  
  
"I'm afraid dinner is nearly over," Dumbledore added, "But the elves will be happy to bring whatever you'd like to your rooms. I've taken the liberty of arranging your usual suites."  
  
"Excellent, excellent," Professor Marchbanks said. "You've always been such a nice boy, Albus."  
  
Usual suites?  
  
Dumbledore led the group of elderly witches and wizards away, and they vanished into the darkness of the corridors. Hiei slipped from his shadow and continued on to the restroom, turning this development over in his mind.  
  
They're likely the OWL examiners, he realized easily enough. Since the professors don't administer the practicals or grade the written exams. Good from an educational view, not good from a security view. Voldemort's people have infiltrated before, and this is far too convenient an opportunity.  
  
I'll be watching them.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Monday morning, OWLs began. Harry and the rest of the 5th-years stayed in the Great Hall after breakfast, standing against the walls in numb silence as the doors fell shut behind the last of the students from other years. Even as the thud echoed through the hall, the tables vanished. In their place, neat rows of desks appeared, each one complete with quill, inkpot, and parchment.  
  
McGonagall stood alone on the dais at the front of the hall. "You will find your seats in alphabetical order," she said pointedly. Hurriedly, the students scattered to their desks. Harry found himself in the fifth row, behind Malfoy, and winced. At least he wasn't in front of Malfoy, but still!  
  
"You will use only the writing supplies and parchment found on your desk," McGonagall said, and Harry quickly snapped his attention away from the blond git. "They have been magicked with a random selection of Anti-Cheating Charms, as has this hall. There will be no talking, no eating, no drinking, and no leaving your desk while the tests are out." She looked over the students sternly. "You will have a ten-minute break halfway through. I will be recalling the tests during that time. Should you finish with time to spare, you may leave." Her tone indicated that she didn't expect anybody to be leaving early.  
  
She flicked her wand, and thick scrolls flew from her desk to the students. There was a moment of tense, expectant silence, and then she said, "You may begin."  
  
Nervously, Harry opened the scroll to the first question.  
  
 _1\. Describe the proper incantation and wand movement for levitating inanimate objects weighing less than 1 lb._  
  
Later, Harry would recall the remainder of the test as a somewhat frenzied blur, punctuated by the ten minute break. At the moment, however, he was sharply focused on each question, and making sure that he covered as many relevant angles in his answer as possible. He was surrounded by the scritch of quills on parchment and the rhythmic tapping that someone behind and to his left was making as they concentrated.  
  
The questions sped past, getting more difficult and generalized as the questions went on: _describe the incantation and wand movements for a Summoning Charm... discuss the difference between a Hurling Hex and a Banishing Charm... explain the difference in degree between a 45-degree angle and a 75-degree angle when casting... discuss the reason 125-degree angles are never recommended in charmswork..._  
  
Finally, it was over. Harry set down his quill, flexing cramped, ink-stained hands -- when had that happened? -- and blew his writing dry before rolling up the scroll. A glance at his watch showed he had five minutes left; he stretched and glanced around the Hall. The Patil twins' seats were empty, as was Terry Boot's, but no one else had left. Hermione seemed to be taking her remaining time to edit what she had written.  
  
That was a good idea, but... If I've messed up, I'm not going to see it in a five-minute skim through four hours' worth of writing, he thought tiredly, mind hurting. Thank Merlin the afternoon's all practicals. I'm not Hermione; I don't think I can write one more bloody sentence.  
  
With that reasoning, Harry rolled up his parchment, waved it towards McGonagall to catch her attention, and after she'd summoned it to her desk, he left.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Transfiguration went somewhat better than Draco had expected, without McGonagall there and ready to pounce on the tiniest Slytherin mistake. Draco would, of course, not be taking the class at NEWT-level, not unless McGonagall choked on a hairball or some such thing over the summer and the class went to someone who wasn't the enemy Head of House.  
  
Herbology, however, was not nearly as pleasant. The written exam had been one thing, no different from the others -- with that git Potter no doubt trying to peek over Draco's shoulder, arrogant Muggle-loving blockhead that he was. The practical, however...  
  
Draco glared at the wailing Mandrake he was trying to repot. The struggling little beast was Not Helping in Draco's quest to finish the test and get out of the greenhouse. What idiot decided to schedule an exam inside a greenhouse, in the afternoon, in June, and require the heavy, itchy school uniforms to be worn?  
  
(And who, in their infinite lack of sense, decided the Malfoys were not exempt from such... plebian activities as Herbology?)  
  
Draco shoved the squalling plant roughly into a pot, cringing (as usual) at the mix of dirt and composted fertilizer he packed on top of the thing. If ANY of it got past his gloves and onto his skin, he didn't care WHAT the books said about it being "good, clean, fresh earth", he knew exactly where certain components had been...  
  
A drop of sweat trickled onto his eyelid, and he shook his head roughly and tried to rub against one of the few clean spots on his sleeve. The last thing he needed was sweat in his eyes.  
  
He managed to wipe the sweat away without getting dirt on himself, and dropped his arm... only for his gaze to fall on Minamino some distance away.  
  
The redhead had not only repotted his Mandrake with no trouble, he'd harvested his Puffapod -- the pot sat off to the side with the rest of his finished work -- and he was up to collecting bubotuber pus. Unlike the rest of them, he was perfectly clean (except for his gloves), calm, barely sweating, and nearly finished with the entire exam.  
  
Of course he was. Plants were his core magic. He slept in a Devil's Snare; he tamed bowtruckles and wandered the Forbidden Forest for fun. Of course he was having no trouble with the OWL.  
  
Cheating bastard.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Defense had been a paradoxial exam. On the one hand, Hiei knew every one of his initial answers was valid. Unfortunately, it wasn't likely that the examiners would appreciate "burn the Dark Creature/object into a crisp, dodge whatever spells they threw, and slice the practitioner's lungs out" as valid answers, so he'd been forced to preface those with descriptions of the specific countercurses and hexes the bureaucrats wanted.  
  
Regardless, with the completion of the Defense practical, nearly half the OWLs were over. Unfortunately, the remaining half had... complications. Some brainless Ministry official had scheduled the History exam -- required for all students -- for Thursday, June 21st. (The Arithmancy OWL was also Thursday, since neither exam had practicals, but that didn't affect Hiei, Yukina, or Kuwabara.)  
  
"So..." Professor Marchbanks declared loudly, clutching at the parchment with long, papery, age-spotted fingers. She adjusted her glasses. "We have here three -- three! -- early History examinations. 'Religious reasons', hmmph. The Ministry never did keep up with the times. 'Customary required rite of passage', load of tosh but if you can't change the date you can't change the date. Sign here, please." And she flipped the sheet around, tapping at the bottom facing them.  
  
Religious reasons? Must've been what Genkai told the Ministry to get them to let them take the OWL early. Hiei scribbled his name under Yukina's and Kuwabara's on the parchment, and Marchbanks whisked it out of sight.  
  
"Sit," she directed, pointing at three small desks off to the side. Each held the usual writing supplies, and the test scroll. The three Tantei sat, and Marchbanks flipped a massive hourglass next to her. "You have four hours. Begin."  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Miraculously, no one blew anything up in the Potions OWL on Monday. Considering Snape had been absent, though, administering regular exams to his other classes, the general consensus in Gryffindor was that this proved that all Potions accidents were Snape's fault.  
  
Hippogriffs were notably absent from the Care of Magical Creatures exam on Tuesday. General consensus in Gryffindor placed blame squarely on the Malfoys.  
  
Divination on Wednesday was an unmitigated disaster. Crystal balls stubbornly refused to show anything but people's distorted reflections. Tea leaves clung mutely to the rims of the cups, symbolless. Kuwabara swore up and down he saw nothing but foxes, no matter what divinatory method he tried, but refused to elaborate. The tarot for each and every student showed The Moon: hidden enemies, deception, danger. Lavender and Parvati had to be physically dragged outside that night for the Astronomy OWL, and every cloud passing over the quarter-moon set them shrieking, until Hermione cast a Silencing Hex their way behind the examiner's back.  
  
No one dared mention Divination after that.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Thursday morning -- or, rather, in the middle of the night, a little past 3 am -- found Hiei and Kuwabara standing in a small corridor near the Infirmary. They leaned uncomfortably against the wall opposite a plain wooden door, Kuwabara casting suspicious sidelong glances that Hiei ignored.  
  
"Why the hell are you here, shrimp?" Kuwabara blurted, after a long wait of approximately thirty seconds.  
  
Hiei noted that the idiot's patience had improved under Genkai's tutelage. "Yukina asked me." Then, pointedly, he added, "as family."  
  
"But you aren't really--"  
  
"Adoptive, dumbass," Hiei interrupted. "If it's good enough for her..." he shrugged. It's not my place to dictate who she can and can't choose to have here. "Do you understand what is happening?" he asked, to distract Kuwabara from any more painful, stupid questions regarding the whole mess.  
  
Crossing his arms, Kuwabara nodded sagely, sober and serious for once. "Yukina is undergoing a rite that'll make her dangerously feverish. I'm to keep guard, cast Freezing Charms around every so often, make sure she's always covered with ice, and make sure she doesn't drown in icemelt."  
  
Close enough. The fever would happen regardless of the rite; the ritual itself was to keep her comfortable and monitor her. It was terrifying to be alone or, worse, among enemies during such a time... Hiei stopped that line of thought there.  
  
"I'll be bringing ice up and chanting a sutra whenever I'm in the room," Hiei informed him coldly. "You do not notice me, you do not talk to me, you do not look at me: from the instant that door opens until dawn tomorrow, I do not exist. Should you acknowledge me, my power levels are such that I can only be categorized as a threat, regardless of my intentions. You would be legally and morally obligated to attack me in Yukina's defense." Hiei paused for a second, just long enough for the idea to sink in. "She doesn't want that. Don't do it."  
  
Kuwabara rolled his eyes. "I won't attack you."  
  
"What part of 'legally obligated' do you not understand? Ignore me or we have to fight." Hiei didn't change expression. "I have no interest in killing you."  
  
"Teme--!"  
  
The doorlatch clicked, shutting both of them up as effectively as a silencing spell. Slowly, the door creaked open. Yukina, half-hidden by the door, ushered them wordlessly into the room, pushing the door shut behind them with some effort.  
  
Her hair fell unbound, and she wore a long-sleeved shift of heavy, deep red cotton. It matched her eyes, which were uncharmed for the first time in months. She was barefoot.  
  
"Thank you for coming," she murmured weakly to Kuwabara, completely ignoring Hiei.  
  
Hiei took the opportunity to look at the room. It was small, little more than a cubicle, containing only a shallow stone tub half-filled with crushed ice, a bathing stool, and a bucket. A thick coat, Kuwabara's size, lay folded on the stool. A globe with bioluminescent fluid of some sort hung from the ceiling, proving a cold, dim, blue-white light. There was no window.  
  
It would do, Hiei supposed. He scooped up the bucket -- a battered, wooden thing smelling faintly of lemon -- and did his best to not listen to his sister's next words.  
  
"Kuwabara Kazuma. I, Yukina of the Koorime, have requested your presence at my side in my darkest hour, unbound and unarmed, free of will and from spell, without witness nor ward, to do as you will."  
  
Kuwabara bowed deeply to her. "And I have accepted," he responded simply.  
  
Without another word, Yukina turned away, brushing softly past Hiei. Her gaze didn't skitter over him, nor did she flinch away as her sleeve touched his hand -- he had spoken more truly to Kuwabara than he knew.  
  
She stepped into the tub, sinking heavily to her knees in the already-melting ice. Kuwabara grabbed up the jacket, fumbling into it, as Hiei closed his eyes.  
  
Under his breath, holding his fist loosely before his mouth, Hiei began to chant the Sutra of the Void. The preternatural silence of the dawn twilight deepened, muffling the imperceptible pulse of their breathing, the blood rushing through their veins, Kuwabara's human heartbeat.  
  
It also muffled the rustle of Kuwabara taking his wand from his pocket, and hollowed the sound of his voice as he quietly cast, "Glaciate Locus." The temperature in the room plummeted.  
  
Ice crunched and shifted; frost crackled over the stone and hissed into steam at Hiei's feet. And still Hiei continued to whisper the sutra into his fist. Kuwabara cast again.  
  
When Hiei opened his eyes once more, Yukina lay unconscious in the ice-filled tub. Kuwabara, his breath steaming on the air and face reddening fast with the cold, stared at her in wide-eyed, unnerved silence. Hiei let his hand fall, tucked the bucket more securely under his arm, and left for the kitchens.  
  
Yukina would need more ice.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The History exam passed quickly, as did lunch and the afternoon, but rather than join the majority of their dormmates in a well-earned collapse, Harry and Ron dragged themselves back to the Great Hall just as the Arithmancy exam let out. Last in the stream of relieved 5th-years, Hermione stepped out and stood dazedly, staring at the two of them.  
  
Harry hadn't noticed the dark circles under her eyes before. Had he been that distracted by the OWLs, too? "Hermione?" he said. "Hermione, it's over."  
  
"...Over...?" she echoed.  
  
Ron nodded. "You're done."  
  
"...no..."  
  
"Yes. No more OWLs."  
  
She blinked slowly, shuddering. "I'm... done." And with that, she swayed and ("Hermione!") toppled into Ron's arms. Harry quickly ducked under Hermione's other arm, dragging it over his shoulders and helping Ron support the limp girl.  
  
"What happened?!" they asked each other in unison. Harry shook his head -- neither of them had an answer -- and said, "Hospital Wing."  
  
Hermione didn't wake on the way to the Hospital Wing, and Harry and Ron eventually changed their grips so that they made a sort of chair out of their arms. Hermione would not thank them for the bruised feet that would inevitably follow being dragged up and down several flights of stairs.  
  
Once they arrived, they set her down on an empty bed. Ron sat with her while Harry went off to find the mediwitch, who came immediately.  
  
Pomfrey ran her wand over the prone girl. "Dehydrated, malnourished, exhausted -- has she been eating and sleeping on a daily basis this month?"  
  
Harry tried to remember. He'd made Hermione eat... three days ago, lunch? And there had been dinner over the weekend, but come to think of it, there had been a lot left on her plate... He turned to Ron. "Were you making her eat?"  
  
"I thought you were!"  
  
Harry faced Madam Pomfrey squarely. "Apparently not."  
  
She shook her head in exasperation, bustling away to a cabinet. "Every single year..." she muttered. Grabbing a tin of lotion, she swung back to the bed. "The best cure for this is plain, simple rest, but I'll be keeping her here under observation." She set the tin on the nightstand (the label read "Nutri-Lo Potion: For When Charms Aren't Enough. (Only for external use)"), and shooed them away from the bed. "You may come back after dinner," she said pointedly, before drawing the privacy curtains briskly shut in their faces.  
  
"Will she be okay?" Ron shouted anyways.  
  
"YES, Mr. Weasley," came the answer, along with the pop of a tin lid and an astrigent medical smell. "Go eat before I wind up with the two of you collapsing in my infirmary as well."  
  
A serious threat. Harry tugged at Ron's sleeve. "Later," he told Ron.  
  
"But--"  
  
"Two words. Hospital food."  
  
Ron's face twisted. "Ugh. Rather let the twins beat Bludgers at me," he muttered as they turned towards the hallway. "While I don't have a bat-- oh, hullo, Urameshi." He nodded to Yuusuke, then blinked as he realized that the other boy was carrying his Ravenclaw... friend? girlfriend? Harry thought her name was Keiko, and her head was lolling on his fellow Gryffindor's shoulder.  
  
"You, too?" he found himself asking.  
  
"Too?" Urameshi asked as he gently slung Keiko onto another bed.  
  
Ron nodded to the girl, and then to the curtained off area where Hermione was. "Hermione's laid out. OWLs."  
  
Yuusuke nodded. "Same here." He smoothed his hair back, though it wasn't falling out of place. "Just keeled right over like she'd been cold-cocked."  
  
"Sounds about the same," Harry said. "Right, well, Madam Pomfrey's in there with Hermione, so best wait until she's done. We're off to the Common Room."  
  
With that, he and Ron took themselves off to Gryffindor Tower. Once there, they ignored the other students, who were exuberant with their exams over, though fortunately too tired to make a real go at being noisy, and Harry and Ron slumped into chairs near the fire. Harry stared into the cheerfully dancing flames, letting the red and gold light relax him.  
  
Just a few minutes til dinner...  
  
Just a few...  
  
Just...  
  
Harry's eyes slipped shut.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Harry woke with a start, something digging into his ribs. Somehow he was not in his bed, but instead sat vaguely upright in a swirl of colors -- no, the Gryffindor common room, coppery sunlight slanting through the westerly windows. The arm of his stuffed chair pressed against his ribcage at exactly the wrong angle, padding almost completely worn away from the underlying wooden skeleton of the chair at this one spot. He heaved himself straight, blinking.  
  
The sun had almost set...? Harry quickly checked his watch. 9 pm. They'd missed dinner... and just to emphasize the fact, his stomach chose that moment to growl.  
  
"Bloody--" Harry muttered, looking for Ron. The other boy curled in an impossibly uncomfortable-looking attempt at a fetal position in the next chair over, soundly asleep.  
  
He'd wake quick enough with food, and if not, well... more for Harry. Stretching, Harry plotted it out: grab the Map since students really weren't supposed to be around the kitchens, nip down there, and be back before curfew easily.  
  
Shame I don't have my Cloak, he thought as he ran upstairs and dug in his trunk for the Marauders' Map. Then he paused, hand still in the trunk. Except... OWLs are over. End of the year for 5ths. Snape can't keep it any longer.  
  
The realization surged gleefully through him. Snape couldn't keep his father's Cloak. Harry could get it back now. Snape couldn't keep it.  
  
Harry finished pulling the Map from his trunk and buried it in his pocket. He had an heirloom to get back.  
  



	50. Up To No Good

  
  
  
  
Deep in the Slytherin dungeons, behind Devil's Snare and closed curtains, Kurama sat in lotus position, his eyes half-open and unseeing. The very air hummed with power only he could feel: not the quiet joy of Setsubun, nor the addictive glee of equinox, nor the frenzy of the first of May, but a nameless warmth, sure and strong.  
  
It was the first day of summer, and Kurama lived for this season. How could he not? The days dragged out with vibrant growth and life, with a maturity entirely unlike the mad rush of spring. The magical pulses of summer were the only two days Kurama felt like himself... as strong as Youko, before his death, yet still tempered (or perhaps the word was tainted?) with humanity.  
  
Such a strange thing, still...  
  
Life magic seeped into him, slotting sedately into place, bringing prudence along with power. Kurama could do anything, anything at all, dance til his feet bled, climb vines to reach the stars, stars that didn't exist in Makai, bring the desert to bloom and turn ice fields to jungles... but he wouldn't, no, not with the control inherent to each drop.  
  
So he sat in his tiny, twin-size den, in the chlorophyll-tinted darkness among his plants, and felt power drip in like a miser counted coins, felt the trickle slowing as the sun reluctantly sank past the horizon.  
  
So the quiet snick of the latch shot through his meditation like a lightning bolt. Kurama didn't move, didn't gasp, didn't so much as fully open his eyes, as someone crept into the room. A tiny click of bolts, a key turning in a lock; metal slid against metal, the near-silence of a well-oiled hinge, and fabric rustled.  
  
Either somebody thinks I'm asleep, or... Kurama opened one eye fully and checked the dim image on a spyeye leaf. A blond figure knelt at the foot of Draco's bed, the trunk open before him, folding up a cloak.  
  
...or Draco's up to something. It was entirely too warm for cloaks this time of year.  
  
The boy reached back into the trunk... something clinked... and came up with a palm-sized shiny object, which he promptly hid away. He carefully lowered the trunk lid, shooting furtive glances that would've drawn anyone's immediate suspicion, then locked the trunk and stood.  
  
Not bothering to move, Kurama dialed his spyeye to a better angle and opened a second view to the hallway, as Draco snuck to the door and peered out. The hallway was empty, and Draco crept into it, shutting the door behind him carefully.  
  
Kurama waited, watching Draco leave. The blond walked openly through the common room, pausing to chat with Pansy (Kurama couldn't lipread English, but Draco gestured easily towards the exit to the castle proper, evidence that he had some excuse ready). He seemed perfectly calm and casual in the slightly grainy image, until he reached the exit and glanced one last, nervous time over his shoulder. He turned left in the hallway, and left the camera's viewing range.  
  
Kurama tucked his spyeyes away. Slipping out into the room, he slid his feet into his shoes and followed.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
The fading sunlight didn't penetrate to Snape's office, and the ever-present fire (always a strange shade of green, or blue, or white, depending on what potions were brewing in his back room and leaking fumes into the office) never gave off heat, leaving only an occasional Lumos-spelled lamp to combat the clammy chill of the dungeons.  
  
However, a good strong dose of righteous fury worked wonders to keep a body warm. Harry certainly didn't feel the chill. "Now, sir," Harry tried again, taking a deep breath to keep from screaming, "I have behaved the entire year. I have not tried to get my Cloak back. I haven't wandered the grounds, or missed curfew, or anything. OWLs are over. It's technically the end of the year..."  
  
Snape's smug, arrogant sneer only deepened. "'Technically', Potter, is a meaningless term," he said, steepling his hands.  
  
Harry forced himself not to clench his teeth. "I want my father's cloak back."  
  
"Unfortunately for you, Mr. Potter, I am not inclined to bend the rules for your celebrity." Unlike everyone else went unspoken.  
  
He's not kicking me out yet. "What do I have to do, take some magical vow not to use it?"  
  
"Considering your history of outright ignoring the rules for your every whim, just like your father," Snape hissed, "I think not."  
  
"But sir...!"  
  
"Oh, just give him the damn thing," Genkai broke in. Harry spun, seeing the little professor in the doorway. "I know the type; he'll be in here all night otherwise."  
  
Snape glared at her. "What are you doing here?" he snarled.  
  
"Give the boy his stupid cloak so he'll go, and I'll tell you."  
  
Harry held his breath as they stared each other down. Please please please...  
  
"Unless," Genkai added, "you'd like to track the boy down the day he leaves?"  
  
A long pause, as Snape processed that and visibly weighed the pros and cons... then he reached into a drawer and threw a small bundle at Harry. "Get out."  
  
Harry clutched the Cloak to himself and all but ran out.  
  
"Now, then, I need Osteo Potion," he heard Genkai saying as he hurried down the corridor. "I nearly fractured my hip..."  
  
Around the corner, down another cool, dank corridor, past a feeble torch and up two steps, then down another corridor... Snape really tried to make his office as difficult to get to as possible... and Harry reached the stairs up out of the dungeons. He took them two at a time, and emerged into the warm entrance hall just as the torches on either side of the archway burst into bright flame. Harry blinked rapidly, instinctively, his eyes adjusting to the light and leaving afterimages.  
  
The sun had just set.  
  
And something was wrong. Harry glanced about the entrance hall, seeing nothing. He blinked a few more times.  
  
Wait. The afterimage doesn't match. A human form lingered in the afterimage, next to a streak of light... Harry raised a hand, blocking the torchlight out, and turned to match the direction he'd been looking when he left the dungeons.  
  
He was facing the door.  
  
Quickly, Harry crossed the hall, opening the door to peer outside. A clear twilight, long shadows thrown across the lawn and lake... and off to the right, another flicker of motion as somebody vanished behind a bend in the outer wall.  
  
Curiouser and curiouser... Harry thought, slipping outside and easing the door shut behind him. He shook the Cloak open and tugged it on, then headed along the outer wall.  
  
Where are we going? he wondered, as whoever it was stayed just out of sight, only the flick of a hem or sleeve leading Harry further around the outer wall, carefully out of sight of all but the Astronomy tower windows. They reached the east side, where the shadow of the castle stretched all the way to the Forbidden Forest, and now Harry could see a human figure on the lawn, hurrying towards the Forest.  
  
Harry's hand slipped into his pocket automatically, coming up with his wand... and encountering a folded bit of parchment as well. The Map.  
  
He stepped back and crouched against the wall, putting the thick masonry between him and whoever was running for the Forest. They'd be sure to glance back a last time to see if they'd been followed, and Harry didn't need a line-of-sight anymore.  
  
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he whispered, tapping the Map.  
  
A tiny dot hesitated at the edge of the Forest. Minamino Shuiichi/Kurama, Harry read, as the dot edged past the line of trees.  
  
Really, Harry thought as he pulled the cloak more closely about him and followed the dot on his map, I should be more surprised.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama plunged silently through the Forest, circling hollows and staying near the wide trunks of the trees. Despite the eerie light... the odd bioluminescence of the occasional rotting log or mushroom, a dim blue glow sometimes misnamed faerie light... Kurama easily, deftly navigated the trailing maze of tree roots. His swift footsteps made no sound in the dry leaf matter underfoot, not that anyone would've noticed.  
  
Draco Malfoy may have been a passable sneak indoors, but he was no woodsman. Kurama didn't have to bother keeping him in sight or even looking for his tracks: he just had to follow the sound of the boy's crashing through the underbrush, and hope nothing hungry was within earshot.  
  
If anything does hear him, I won't know until he's half-mangled by it... unless it gets within twenty meters of me. That was how far out he could find something via the trees tonight, though the ability was chancy at best. It took too much concentration, and he couldn't distinguish anything very well. Trees didn't particularly notice if something was a sparrow or a squirrel, or a small Acromantula or a large owl.  
  
Twenty meters' range at best, and Draco blundering noisily about like a particularly ungraceful elephant. It was enough to make Kurama very, very nervous.  
  
A particularly loud crash-splash and a yelp made Kurama wince. Right into the stream, he thought, pausing to listen to the smaller splashes and squelches as Draco presumably stomped across and climbed out onto the far bank. The rhythmic crashing through the underbrush began again, this time the crunching distinctly more mushy-sounding, and Kurama returned to following. He leapt the stream... a deepish spot, luckily for Draco, though sluggish and muddy... and bypassed the mud where Draco had slogged out.  
  
At least they were heading away from the Acromantula nest now, but where were they going? This was the only direction that didn't have much of anything there, if Draco continued going straight; it skirted a few territories, like the centaurs', but it didn't actually cross into anything's range for a good kilometer or so. That was well past the school's outermost wards, with their Anti-Apparation and Unplottable spells, but surely the wards weren't the goal? There were far safer, easier ways to sneak off the grounds, by crossing the lawn and circling the lake, or following the train tracks.  
  
Hogsmeade wasn't the goal, for that was the exact opposite direction...  
  
Abruptly, the noise stopped.  
  
Kurama snatched his rose from his hair, rushing forward, instinctively still avoiding twigs and crunching leaves underfoot as he darted towards the spot where Draco's sounds had stopped. If he'd been caught by surprise, caught properly in a way that gave him no chance to yell, he could already be dead... although Kurama didn't smell blood.  
  
The clearing just ahead of him burst into silvery light. Kurama flung himself to the ground behind a tree, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden brilliance... which, as it turned out after a few blinks, wasn't so bright after all. Just two or three times brighter than the ambient forest light, which put it on about the level of a quarter-moon's light.  
  
Kurama peered cautiously around the tree, over one of its thick roots. Draco knelt in the center of the little hollow just ahead, something shining brightly silver in the dirt before him. A tiny hiss, and suddenly Kurama could smell blood... barely. Draco flicked a penknife closed and put it back in his pocket, leaning forward to run his hand over the shining object (a shadow sweeping across the light momentarily), then sat back on his heels and stuck his index finger in his mouth.  
  
He'd cut himself.  
  
What on earth...?  
  
The silvery light darkened and began to swirl.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Kurama's dot had stopped.  
  
Harry froze mid-step, gaze flicking from the surrounding forest to the parchment. Harry's walk through the forest had been difficult, stumbling over tree roots and nearly falling in a stream, as Kurama's dot on the Map had pulled further and further ahead of Harry's, and now Kurama had stopped. Why? They weren't at the edge of the grounds, though another sixth of a mile would've put them there, so...  
  
Maybe he's just harvesting something. Plants, forest...  
  
But he would've had permission for that, rather than needing to sneak out.  
  
Harry carefully drew closer, eyeing his map and circling off to one side as he edged past the trees. If he was lucky, he was out of range. With his Invisibility Cloak, he'd be completely off Kurama's radar... whatever that was for a plant mage in a forest.  
  
Harry crested a ridge, and bright light hit his eyes, making him squint. Somewhere ahead in the trees, roughly where the map showed Kurama at, something glowed silver. Harry glanced at the map again.  
  
Another dot had appeared, near Kurama. Draco Malfoy.  
  
The light flickered, and began to shimmer like a lit pool at night. Harry jerked his eyes away from the parchment, stuffing it in his pocket, and slid down the rise towards the light.  
  
Just outside the clearing, a tiny splash of red lay at the base of a tree: Kurama, easily visible from Harry's angle, though not from inside the clearing where Malfoy had to be. Still, that didn't mean he wasn't part of... whatever was going on. Harry tugged his Cloak tighter about himself and ducked behind the root of a different tree, where he had a good view of both the clearing and Kurama.  
  
In the center of the clearing, Malfoy pushed himself to his feet before the swirling disk of silvery light... larger than he was, and hanging several inches from the ground... and took several steps back from it. Harry couldn't tell, but it looked almost as if Malfoy had gone unnaturally pale. His expression was suspiciously blank, jaw tight, hands visibly shaking.  
  
The disk darkened in the center, silver draining away into a painful, vision-twisting black. Energy spat across the space once, twice, impossible colors ghosting faintly past deep within the black.  
  
"Clisglann!" Malfoy snapped, voice shrill with terror.  
  
One of the faint surges of color stilled, grew... no, approached. It deepened to a shade of greenish brown, slowly taking on a tangible sense of mass. Limbs appeared; a thick-bodied, humanoid figure. The black surged, bulging from the ring of silver suspended before Malfoy. An arm pressed into the bubble of black, then two, then a leg, pushing as if through thick jelly. Two hands, their fingers oddly long and thin, grasped at the skin of the bubble, scrabbling over the surface.  
  
Malfoy edged backwards just as a taloned nail caught, and the black popped, snapping back into the ring of silver light and spitting the creature out.  
  
It was man-shaped, but it was definitely no man. Seven feet tall, green-brown, a bald head on top of a nearly cylindrical, beefy body, fingers like jointed spears... it looked something like a troll, and something like a human, and something like a statue dredged from the bottom of a bog.  
  
"Clisglann!" Malfoy repeated. The creature's gaze swiveled to him. "I am guide! He Who Mus..."  
  
A faint breeze brushed past Harry, from slightly left of him. The creature's head snapped up, nostrils flaring. He gestured Draco silent.  
  
Movement to Harry's left and ahead: Kurama, insanely, suicidally, stood up, a rose held lightly between two fingers at his side.  
  
Is he mad?! Harry thought.  
  
"Careless of me, to be upwind," Kurama said simply.  
  
A vine snaked around Draco's wrist, yanking him backwards and out of the way with a yelp. "Let's not stand on ceremony," Kurama continued. "You weren't summoned to fight on my side, so... shall we?" Kurama asked, bowing slightly and leaping away even as the demon's nails shot at him.  
  
Not shot, Harry thought, as Kurama lashed out with his Rose Whip and the demon spun away. Five blades angled from the demon's hand: his nails, grown to a sword-length size. Telescoping.  
  
The demon blocked Kurama's whip, the two weapons screeching against each other before the fighters leapt back. A thin sliver of nail curled to the ground. The demon flicked the damaged nail from his hand (it thudded into the dirt unnervingly close to Harry) and regrew it, jumping back into the fray. Kurama's eyes burned with the cold fire Harry had glimpsed only a couple of times before, as he tumbled past, gaze passing unknowingly over Harry's invisible face before the Slytherin boy shoved upwards and away.  
  
The tumble drew Harry's attention back to the clearing itself. Under the ring of light, the portal, something silver gleamed. Harry quickly glanced up at the fight: Kurama seemed determined to stay towards the edges of the clearing, and away from Draco (either paralyzed with fright or unconscious: Harry couldn't see from this angle). The silver gleam was only a dozen yards away. And the portal still showed the ghostly colors of more demons deep within it...  
  
Harry darted out from behind his tree, hunched over and clutching at his Cloak and his wand. He skidded to a halt under the portal, on one knee and ready to shove off again. He snatched up the gleaming object.  
  
The light cut off. Shocked, Harry overbalanced, tumbling to the ground...  
  
... rolling once ...  
  
... the Cloak unwrapping from around him ...  
  
... hearing Kurama gasp ...  
  
... and seeing Kurama misstep.  
  
The demon's nail-blades, all five, slammed into Kurama's chest. Kurama crashed into a nearby tree with a meaty thunk and a stifled grunt, something glassy shattering. His whip lashed out before Harry could think, whistling scarce centimeters from Kurama's torso and chopping at the demon's wrist. The hand, and most of its nail-blades, plopped to the ground, leaving a scarce half-inch of blade sticking from Kurama's chest.  
  
Kurama shoved himself from the tree, off the remnants of the monster's nails, and staggered heavily. "You," he gasped wetly as he clutched at his chest, "broke my potion."  
  
Potion? Harry thought wildly. What...?  
  
Kurama sucked in a breath, the color streaming from his hair and clothes. His head snapped back; cheekbones lifted, his jaw firmed, two unmistakeable ears appeared in his hair. A tail flicked into view.  
  
No...  
  
Slowly, Youko's head fell forward, and he straightened, gold eyes glowing. His hand, clean and claw-tipped, fell to his side. Despite the fact that Kurama had been impaled upon the tree, and his blood still glistened on the nail-blades, the Youko's tunic almost glowed a snowy, pristine white.  
  
Youko glared past the troll-like demon, right into Harry's eyes. "Dammit, Harry!"  
  



	51. I Solemnly Swear

  
  
  
Harry stared at Youko... Youko, who two seconds ago had been Kurama.  
  
 _It can't be... it can't... where'd Kurama go?_  
  
The troll-like demon hissed in disgust. "Halfbreed!"  
  
Youko sneered at him. "The word is 'traitor'," he said. "Get it right."  
  
The demon lunged, his single remaining hand leading, bladed nails splayed.  
  
Youko vanished. The troll-demon spun, blades whipping about; Youko reappeared, flinging himself back, the blades narrowly missing his throat. He lashed out with the whip, chopping another blade off, and leapt away, drawing the demon farther from Harry.  
  
Farther from...? Harry scrambled up, drawing the Cloak back around himself. He'd been lying there for a good minute, completely visible and vulnerable to both demons! Scuttling to the far edge of the clearing, Harry ducked behind a tree and nearly tripped over Malfoy.  
  
The blond huddled against the trunk, pressed against the ground and as far from the clearing and the fight as the vines trapping him would allow, shaking violently and gibbering, his eyes glassy with shock. "He's a demon he's a demon he's a demon he's..."  
  
Should I...? Harry wondered. But... No. A near-silent, terrified Malfoy was a heck of a lot better than one screaming his bloody head off. Better to ignore the soft stream of babble coming from the blond's mouth than try to snap him out of it.  
  
Peeking back over the tree's thick, trailing roots, Harry watched as Youko took to the treetops and vanished among the forest's eerie phosphoresence and flickering moonlight. The other demon slashed at the canopy wildly, nails lengthening and clacking together with metallic snicks as leaves showered down.  
  
Harry slid his free hand into his pocket, taking out his wand. Who should I help? Who's on my side? Was it the demon Malfoy had summoned (Harry's wand flicked downwards to the troll-like demon), or the one who'd held Harry captive all those weeks ago and threatened to sell him to Voldemort (his wand wavered towards the treetops)? Who was on his side?  
  
Malfoy had said something, before the summoned demon had shut him up and Kurama had appeared, before Kurama had been injured, before he'd turned into Youko. Before, Malfoy had said, "I am guide!" and had started to say something else...  
  
"He-Who-Must..."  
  
Harry mouthed the words silently, letting the rest of the phrase come naturally. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  
  
Malfoy was... a guide for the demon, sent by Voldemort? It had to be that. The demon was Voldemort's. He pointed his wand at the demon on the ground.  
  
But Youko had threatened to sell Harry to Voldemort. Harry's wand slid back upwards. Only if Harry had proven to be a disappointment, but... there was no proof that he'd been serious. In fact, that would've gone completely against the bargain he'd had with Genkai, right?  
  
Enough dithering, Potter! Harry thought to himself. It's either definitely-Voldemort or maybe-Voldemort! Go with MAYBE!  
  
His wand fell to aim at the unknown demon. "Catenis Constringo!" he shouted, firing chains from his wand. They snapped around the demon, ends burying themselves into the ground, holding the demon fast.  
  
Youko dropped from the treetops, landing in a crouch, his hand splayed on the ground. The demon strained, his chains creaking alarmingly. A flash of red light lanced over the clearing, and Youko smirked up at the demon. "Sayonara."  
  
All the leaves that the demon had sliced from the canopy blasted from the forest floor.  
  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
  
Youko stood smoothly and stepped back, ducking the rain of gore and blood-stained leaves. This was always a particularly messy form of eliminating opponents, but it was almost completely effective. He turned away from what little was left of the demon, eyeing the large tree off to the side of the clearing where he'd dumped Malfoy.  
  
The binding spell had come from here.  
  
"We need to be leaving quickly," Youko said, facing the spot that Harry was probably at. "This much blood will attract every predator within five kilometers." Silence, except for Malfoy's near-inaudible whimpering. Youko stepped towards the tree.  
  
"Don't come any closer!" Harry's voice, tense and flat. Youko could easily picture the wand aimed at him.  
  
He raised his hands placatingly, cocking his head quizzically. "I'm not going to eat you, Harry." He raised an eyebrow. "I'm on your side, actually."  
  
"Why do I find that hard to believe?" Harry shot back, voice slightly shaky.  
  
Youko rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I have no idea. We can argue about it after we get out of here." He directed a stern look towards Harry to quell any protest. "I promise... and you had better remember every single word of Genkai's lecture about that... to take you back to Hogwarts now, and not to harm you as long as we're in the Forbidden Forest or at Hogwarts." He could almost hear Harry blink. "So if you'd drop the invisibility spell so I can see if you're still ready to shoot...?" He trailed off, waiting.  
  
After a few cautious moments, Harry's head suddenly appeared hovering in midair, followed more slowly by the rest of his body... and now Youko could see that the 'spell' was a cloak with a translucent sheen of rainbow swirls. And Harry's wand wasn't pointed at him anymore.  
  
Youko lowered his hands. "That's better," he murmured. He stepped past Harry, who edged slightly away, and grabbed Draco by the boy's bound wrists, muffling the boy's shriek. "I'll deal with you later," he hissed. Draco's eyes went impossibly wider, flicking once to Harry and back, before they rolled back in his head and Draco slumped, unconscious. Youko sighed. "At least he didn't wet his pants," he grumbled, slinging the boy over one shoulder and turning back to Harry. "Let's go."  
  
Harry took a half-step towards Hogwarts... then paused, staring at the gore-spattered clearing they would have to cross, and hurriedly scrambled off to the side to go around.  
  
Stifling a bit of amusement, since Harry's reaction was understandable, Youko followed Harry and fell into step with him. Harry gave him a nervous, sidelong glance, but didn't protest.  
  
Harry's shuffled steps, too loud for Youko's tastes, but far quieter than Draco's earlier crashing foray into the Forest, filled the tense silence between them.  
  
Should I...? Was it more important for Harry to pay attention to their surroundings, or to his walking?  
  
Surroundings, definitely, Youko decided. The tense silence continued as they made their way through the Forest.  
  
Eventually, out of the corner of Youko's eye, he saw Harry perk. The boy tugged his Cloak shut, and his body vanished.  
  
"Put that thing away!" Youko hissed, before Harry could pull the hood over his head. Harry froze. "Nothing out at this hour is going to hunt by sight," Youko continued, just barely above a whisper. "The more wary you are, the more likely we are to get out of here alive, do you get it?"  
  
Harry met his eyes flatly, unyielding. Youko almost blinked. This wasn't the bewildered, suspiscious gaze from before. This was different... the look of someone who'd faced danger, grabbed it head-on and survived. Only the barest flashes of emotion flickered through the green.  
  
Not emotion. Realizations.  
  
"You can't fight it all yourself," Harry murmured. Youko froze, and Harry added, "Kurama's too badly injured." Harry paused, eyes widening as the next logical conclusion hit.  
  
And in the pause, a rhythmic whisper of sound caught Youko's ears. He held a finger up to hush Harry, one ear swiveling to follow the soft noise.  
  
It was coming closer.  
  
Youko caught Harry by the waist, scooped him up and swung him under the nearest tree. Leaping, he pulled himself silently onto the first branch, hampered by Draco's limp weight, then reached down a hand to pull Harry up.  
  
They climbed a bit higher, the sound getting closer and closer, becoming distinct, heavy footsteps thudding lowly through the leaves. At a wide split in the trunk, Youko pressed Harry against the rough bark, arranging Draco's dark robes and his own silver tail to a more random appearance among the streams of shadow and moonlight.  
  
Two centaurs passed below, crossbows out and loaded. Their heads swiveled watchfully, faces hard to see from this angle. One glanced into the trees, and Youko lifted his arm just a bit, enough to block Harry's glasses and eyes, and narrowed his own to near-invisible slits.  
  
The centaurs moved on. Once the steady thud of their hoofbeats had faded into indistinctness once more, Youko spoke. "We'll have to take a different route," he murmured. "Everything that's out of their territories is probably going to follow this corridor."  
  
Harry shifted behind him. "How long do you have?" he asked quietly.  
  
Damn. Something about mortal peril had to bring the boy's intelligence out like nothing else. "... I'd like to be back in the school by dawn," Youko hedged.  
  
Silence. Then, "What happens if you're not?"  
  
"Let's not think about that." Youko eased a branch aside, checking the area. "There," he pointed at a sharp angle from their original route, "If we circle around and catch the stream from the north, we can go upstream to the bowtruckles' territory and cut through to get bac..." On his shoulder, Draco stirred, groaning.  
  
"Oh great," Harry muttered.  
  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
  
Draco's head felt oddly heavy, his stomach felt like somebody had cast a Corsetus charm on it, and his fingertips tingled, hanging... over his head... downwards? He blinked, a wavering streak of white over black resolving itself into a furry tail crossing a clear, if spinning, view of someone's feet... branches... and a good twenty or thirty feet below, ground. He sucked in a breath, abs protesting the pressure on his lower stomach, and...  
  
Potter's voice. "Silencio."  
  
..screamed in throat-tearing soundlessness. Fragments of memory poured into his mind.  
  
Kurama.  
  
The demon.  
  
Kurama turning into a demon.  
  
Kurama-the-demon murdering the other demon, and then grabbing Draco...  
  
Draco screamed again, twisted, and the world spun on its axis, hands grabbing at his robes and limbs.  
  
"Quit struggling before you fall, you idiot!" A deep voice. Whose? Someone yanked at the scruff of his neck, and he came face-to-face with Kurama-the-demon.  
  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
  
The fox jumped lightly to the ground, barely jostling Malfoy. Harry's descent was a great deal less graceful, and involved a skinned palm. As he landed with a knee-jarring thump, Youko settled Malfoy, sobbing, onto his feet. The blond half-crumpled, only Youko's clawed hand under his elbow keeping him upright.  
  
Somehow, Harry couldn't muster any sympathy for Malfoy. Yeah, Youko was a big scary demon. But so had been the creature Malfoy had summoned, and Youko easily could have left Draco behind to get eaten.  
  
Besides, Youko had something to do with Kurama, something which was currently saving the redhead's life. Possession of some sort that changed the body, or maybe something more like a werewolf, two minds and bodies sharing the same lump of matter... whatever it was, it had to do with the potion and it bloody well didn't matter since it was keeping Minamino alive, and Youko... Minamino... Whoever-it-was was trying to keep all three of them alive.  
  
Youko pointed away from their route, deeper into the forest. "That way. This corridor is outside anybody's territory. Anything leaving its own haunts will want to use it to reach the commotion we caused," he repeated, probably for Malfoy's benefit. He glanced at Harry. "If we skirt the cusith pack's territory, there's a stream we can follow to Hogwarts."  
  
"That works." What's a cusith?  
  
The fox turned his back on Harry and led in the new direction, dragging Malfoy (fortunately still silent from Harry's spell) stumbling along at his side. Harry jogged to follow.  
  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
  
Some time later, after a good two hours of stumbling, skidding, a couple of stops to let the humans catch their breath, three panicked escape attempts and another fainting fit on Draco's part, and six reapplications of the Silencing spell, a long, ululating howl ghosted through the trees. It was deeper than any wolf's, seeming to vibrate through and over the ground rather than pierce the air.  
  
Draco jerked in Youko's hands, trying to bolt.  
  
Another howl answered, and another, and another, the cries rising and falling discordantly, echoes reverberating and multiplying until Youko couldn't tell how many of the pack were out.  
  
A glance back showed Harry on the alert, wand out, eyes flicking warily towards every echo and behind them. He instinctively turned to walk sideways, his hand closing over Youko's tail for guidance. Youko suppressed the instinct to whip his tail from Harry's grip, instead letting the boy watch their backs without distraction.  
  
"Youko..." Harry whispered, urgent.  
  
Movement flickered deep in the trees, vaguely canine shadows slightly greener than black against the twilight blues of the forest. At least one on each side, two further back and keeping pace.  
  
"We're fine," Youko murmured, edging past a tree and sliding into the hollow between the sprawling roots. "Cusiths only attack females." They carried them off to nurse pups.  
  
"Are you sure?" Harry asked.  
  
"The library's sure," Youko muttered.  
  
"Mind if I don't find that reassuring?"  
  
"No, go right ahead," Youko replied, ears twitching towards the hush of running water. He pulled Draco over a rise, finally within sight of the stream. The creekbed lay lower than most of the land around, a sharply-cut, shallow wound in the bedrock, its banks nearly vertical and the hillside to it steep. Saplings grew in the few level spots on the hill, whip-thin and flexible, while older trees lay fallen on their sides, the victims of winter storms and their own girth.  
  
Harry peered past Youko, down into the ravine. "So... now what?"  
  
"Climb. It's not that steep." Pushing Draco forward, Youko guided the blond to slide down to the most stable of the nearest fallen trees. When Draco's feet hit, though, he kept sliding until he was cowering on his knees on the log. Youko nudged him less than gently with his foot. "Forward."  
  
Nothing.  
  
Harry glanced back; the shadowy forms in the trees were creeping closer, and seemed to be losing patience. He whipped back around, swallowing bile at his next, hissed words. "Grow a backbone already! Are you a Malfoy or a mouse? Get up!"  
  
Draco shot to his feet as if stung. "Shut up, Potter!" he yelled shrilly. The silencing spell had worn off again. "You don't get it, it's not natural, he's..."  
  
"Promised to get us the hell out of this Forest."  
  
"Yes...no! He's going to KILL us and EAT us and..."  
  
"Do absolutely nothing that your demon wasn't," Harry interrupted. "Just walk."  
  
Draco moved a few grudging, seething paces down the log, glare focused on Harry. Youko stepped lightly onto the fallen tree and leapt down to another, skidding slightly. He turned, arms outstretched. Harry took Youko's place, crowding Draco down the tree, until the blond turned and slid down to the next log, catching Youko's forearms for balance.  
  
And as they continued down towards the stream in this manner, Harry looked back up the embankment. Six green hounds, as large and shaggy as Shetland ponies, sat in a row at the top of the gorge, glowing eyes watching them leave the pack's territory, guarding and blocking the way back.  
  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
  
Draco stomped through frigid, shallow water in the slowly paling depths of the Forest. Great splashes of water went up at each step, squelching into his shoes and plastering the hem of his robes to his ankles.  
  
After the initial shock... it was shock and consternation about Kurama-the-demon that had caused Draco to be so upset earlier. Really. Anyways, after the initial shock, he was regaining his equilibrium and sense of decorum.  
  
Though he would no doubt be upset again if he thought about how he'd failed Volde... You-Know-...  
  
I am not thinking about that. He was thinking about... about... how completely wrong it was for a Malfoy to be tramping up a filthy, freezing little stream. Just what was wrong with walking on the streambank? Kurama-the-demon's claims about stealth and being followed and footprints and scent trails... HA. Scent trails! Just how stupid did Kurama-the-demon think Draco was? It was just a ploy to make him slog through freezing water. Kurama-the-demon just wanted to humiliate Draco, just as he had earlier through his mere appearance.  
  
Demons did that sort of thing. That was why they were demons. They were evil, unnatural fiends and as soon as he got back to Hogwarts he would be sure to tell the entire school about... it... Wait.  
  
Voldemort didn't know. Voldemort wanted Minamino, wanted the Slytherin boy's power on his side... but he didn't know. Draco had failed, but Voldemort didn't know about Minamino...!  
  
I just might get through the summer! Draco thought, following Kurama-the-demon's directions out of the stream. He could see the lightening sky through the last line of trees, and he had a plan, and he just might get out of this night's fiasco smelling of roses.  
  
... though that was a bad metaphor under the circumstances.  
  
Kurama-the-demon's hand clenched above Draco's elbow again... bloody git, I bruise easily!... and he tugged Draco down next to him just behind a tree at the very edge of the well-tended grounds. Draco shot a glare at the demon, but Kurama wasn't watching; his yellow eyes were focused on the lawn. Draco followed his stare.  
  
Two figures stood close together near the front door: Dumbledore, unmistakable with garish nightrobes and long white hair, and a centaur. The centaur held something in a cupped hand, pointing at it as he spoke to Dumbledore. For his part, Dumbledore was rubbing his beard, shaking his head pensively.  
  
The sky continued to pale, dawn creeping ever-closer.  
  
Harry glanced at Kurama-the-demon. "We need another way in."  
  
A shake of white hair, eyes never moving from the distant figures. "Maybe."  
  
"Maybe?" Harry echoed.  
  
"If this conversation is what I think it is..." Kurama-the-demon trailed off, clearly refusing to say more.  
  
The centaur abruptly dropped whatever he held into Dumbledore's hands and trotted away, heading back to Draco's original entry point into the Forest. Dumbledore himself turned back into the school.  
  
Draco moved to stand, as did Harry, but Kurama caught them mid-move. "Wait for it..."  
  
Dumbledore paused at the threshold, casting a long look over his shoulder at the Forest's edge. Then he vanished into the building proper.  
  
Kurama-the-demon pulled both boys up. "Go!"  
  
They dashed across the grounds, feet pounding on the dewy grass, the demon running almost too fast for Draco to keep up. He skidded up the damp stone steps, nearly crashing into the door even as claw-tipped hands shoved the weighty oaken door open as if it were a feather. Draco spun in Kurama-the-demon's grip, the demon halting as sharply as he'd burst into a run, catching the door before it slammed against the wall and easing it shut behind Harry. He put a finger to his lips, shushing before either human could protest, then slipped boldly across the entry hall and into a smaller corridor, dragging Draco along.  
  
The torches burned low, some only embers, some trailing the thin smoke of a fresh extinguishing. Draco's shoes squelched and slapped unnervingly on the cold stone, as did Harry's; Kurama-the-demon walked in unnatural silence. A flutter of gleaming shadow, boldly-patterned robes, turning corners far ahead was their only company.  
  
Some turns and hallways later, Kurama slowed at the telltale sound of grinding stone. The staircases were moving. He tugged both Draco and Harry into an alcove just out of sight of the end of the corridor.  
  
"Now what?" Draco snapped.  
  
"Quiet," Kurama replied, ears flicking watchfully. "He's going down."  
  
"So?" Harry asked.  
  
"Professor's wing," Kurama answered shortly. "Get out your Cloak."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Unless you want to get caught?"  
  
Harry bit his lip, then dug into a pocket and pulled out...  
  
"An Invisibility Cloak?" Draco yelped. Kurama's hand clamped over his mouth. Of course Saint Potter has an Invisibility Cloak! Draco thought, struggling and trying to yell past the hand. Everybody caters to him! Kurama flipped them around and pinned Draco against the wall, hand still firmly over his mouth. I bet all the professors are in on this (except Professor Snape), they're all blinded by his stupid scar and let him do whatever he wants and bend the bloody rules for him and--  
  
Harry shook the Cloak out and cast it over the three of them. "Silencio. Petrificus totalus."  
  
Draco's arms and legs locked up, muffled cries cutting off. Without even a glare, Kurama-the-demon propped Draco up against the wall and adjusted the Cloak more securely. Then they waited.  
  
Perhaps five minutes later, McGonagall and Flitwick dashed by in their nightrobes.  
  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
  
Harry held his breath as his Head of House rushed down the hallway in a flurry of tartan flannel, the tiny Charms professor in her wake. When both vanished around a corner, he relaxed marginally. "How did you know?" he whispered to Youko.  
  
"Later," Youko replied, tense. "We've got only minutes before we're discovered missing now." Before Harry could ask further, since McGonagall had a direct Floo connection to the common rooms and didn't need to run through the halls, Youko added, "A few extra for you, since McGonagall's probably checking the Infirmary first. But Snape's in the Slytherin dorms by now."  
  
Oh. Harry peered out of the alcove, quickly ducking back at the sight of Dumbledore rushing up the stairs. Stone ground against itself again as he passed the ground level, continuing upwards, and fell back to silence.  
  
Youko snatched up Draco, the blond still frozen stiff, and slid out from under the Cloak. "Quick," he murmured. "Before he comes back."  
  
They dashed into the staircase atrium and down the stairs, Draco's shoes thumping against the limestone steps, and into another corridor. This one was lit, pedestal torches blazing urgently against the dawn, and draped in tapestries. Youko stopped before a scene of scholars at work, growling in a language Harry wasn't sure could fit in a human mouth.  
  
The tapestry swirled open, becoming a darker hallway lined with doors. Youko stepped hastily in, pulling Harry, the tapestry snapping closed almost on their heels. Harry caught sight of only a couple of doorplates as Youko hustled him along the corridor.  
  
Pince.  
  
Sinastra.  
  
Flitwick.  
  
The door Youko stopped and growled (again) at, though, had two writings on the nameplate: complex Asian writing, and Genkai. This door swung open almost before he'd finished speaking, revealing the old woman... eyes burning with irritation that quickly snapped to fury, as Youko brushed past her without a word and dropped the Petrified Draco on her couch.  
  
Genkai slammed and locked the door. "Do I want to know?" she asked flatly.  
  
Youko ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and slumped to lean against the couch. "No. But you need to."  
  
Harry sagged into an overstuffed armchair, taking off his glasses as Youko quickly ran through the night's events... starting from when he, Kurama, had seen Draco sneaking out.  
  
He really is Kurama.  
  
Following Draco into the Forest.  
  
Harry rubbed his eyes.  He really...   
  
Watching Draco summon a demon.  
  
... somehow...  
  
The wind, the demon catching Kurama's scent. Starting the fight.  
  
... despite there having been two of them...  
  
Harry's sudden appearance out of nowhere.  
  
... for days on end...  
  
The broken potion, injected directly... as far as Kurama could figure... into his heart, by the demon's claws.  
  
... is Kurama.  
  
Youko finished with, "Then I finished the demon off, and we've been avoiding curious and hungry Forest residents since."  
  
The fire crackled and danced at the corner of Harry's blurred vision. Then, "Well," Genkai muttered with a huff. "You've done your job, then, and there's no avoiding the fallout. How long will the dose last?"  
  
Youko treated her to a wry look, head and ears tilting cockeyed. "I have no idea. The potion's never been tested in the bloodstream."  
  
"Take a guess," she snapped.  
  
A shrug, Youko... no, Kurama's... half-smile twisting unpleasantly. "Staying like this is eating away at my reserves as is. It won't last past breakfast."  
  
Harry flinched. He'd guessed right, so much earlier in the Forest. Kurama was too badly injured to use much power without reverting. He glanced out Genkai's window at the bright colors in the east: it was nearly 4 am. By breakfast meant less than four hours...  
  
"Two last questions, then," Genkai said. "One: who cast the chains?"  
  
Chains...? Harry wondered. Youko pointed silently at him. Oh. Yeah. I did cast chains on the other demon before Youk... Kurama... before he killed it.  
  
"Two: what did Malfoy use to summon the demon?"  
  
Youko shrugged. "I didn't see. Something shiny."  
  
Use...? "Wait," Harry muttered, digging into his pockets. "I grabbed it. Broke the portal." He pulled it out and tossed it on the table. "There."  
  
It was a silver disk, just about the size of Harry's palm, the rim scratched with the runes Hermione had never been able to identify from Harry's visions. Unlike real silver, the smooth material didn't shine or reflect, and it had an oddly sticky quality to the sheen. Harry had seen something like it before... but where?  
  
Genkai and Kurama leaned in, curious. "What do you make of it?" she asked.  
  
"Hm..." Kurama poked at it with a claw. "The writing looks like Western Makai... upper levels, perhaps." He leaned closer, sniffing. "Smells like blood."  
  
"Of course it does," Genkai replied, pointing at several small reddish blots in the center. "You have to be from Reikai to activate a portal without blood."  
  
"Not that paltry amount," Youko replied. "I mean it reeks of it."  
  
Like... it was made of it, perhaps? Harry wondered. Like... "Unicorn blood." Their eyes shot to him. "Um. It looks like unicorn blood. Only it's, well..." he gestured at the amulet, "...solid."  
  
Genkai and Kurama exchanged looks. Genkai snorted. "That would do it."  
  
"You wouldn't even need an innocent to activate it," Youko added.  
  
Unfortunately for us, Harry thought. If even Malfoy can work the thing...  
  
Three raps at the door. Youko leapt to his feet, eyes wide.  
  
Genkai gestured to a door on the far wall. "Go," she hissed, crossing to the entrance to her suite. Youko darted into the other room, shutting the door silently behind him. Genkai immediately flung the corridor door open, revealing Dumbledore. "Professor, so sorry to bother you again so early..." his eyes slipped past her, landing on Draco Petrified on her couch, and Harry in her armchair, "... but it seems you've found two of our missing students."  
  
Genkai nodded curtly. "They just arrived." A note of lighter emotion entered her voice. "And Minamino's in the next room, if you were coming to inform me he was missing."  
  
A pause. Then Dumbledore smiled blankly, and shifted subtly to gesture Genkai towards the corridor. "If you would, Professor?"  
  
"I'd rather not," Genkai replied. "Minamino's overcelebrated solstice. I'd like to remain within earshot until he recovers. But please," she stepped back, "come in."  
  
Dumbledore gracefully accepted the invitation, stepping into the professor's living room. His gaze passed over Draco again and met Harry's.  
  
"Good morning, Harry."  
  
Harry put his glasses back on, blinking rapidly as Dumbledore lowered himself heavily into the armchair across from him. "Morning, Professor." The headmaster's eyes were as unreadable as always, he noticed, but the usual twinkle was missing.  
  
"You seem to have had a difficult night. Were you in the Forest?"  
  
Harry glanced down at himself. Wet shoes, muddy robes, a rip along the hem and one sleeve, a couple of broken twigs snagged in the cloth... "Yessir," he mumbled.  
  
"Ah." Dumbledore pondered this for a long moment. "Then perhaps you can explain this," he said, placing a twisted link of chain, spattered with dried-brown blood, on the table before Harry.  
  
Oh. Crap. "Um..." If he said anything, he'd incriminate himself. More than he had for having to admit to being in the Forbidden Forest (again) in the first place. But if he didn't, Draco would get away scot-free, and Kurama...  
  
Was it murder if it was between two demons? Did Kurama give a damn about the kill?  
  
"Firenze found it in the forest," Dumbledore continued. "It's unmistakably conjured wizard chain." A pause. "The centaurs believe it to have been used to restrain a large animal sacrifice, Harry."  
  
Sacrifice. First-year Defense class, they'd had a full six-week unit on the difference between Dark Arts and live animal use in Potions. Sacrifice was the word for the Dark Arts usages.  
  
"I dunno what it was," Harry muttered. How to get out of this? "Malfoy did something. Made a massive... hole in the air, it looked like, and something kind of like a troll came through. Minamino stopped it, but he's been pretty weird since. We dragged Malfoy back here and Minamino went to..." Harry shrugged.  
  
Fortunately, Genkai took the cue. "Minamino's exhausted himself. He's passed out on the futon and is recovering, as I said." Dumbledore frowned, but Genkai plowed on. "You can't see him. As for Malfoy here... I think we can all guess exactly whose orders he was following, if not what he was specifically doing."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes rested on Draco's petrified form. "Indeed," he murmured.  
  
Genkai made a soft sound of assent, that sounded rather like a cough. "If we're up to the agreeing-with-everything stage, gentlemen, and can glean nothing more... I have a student to monitor." It was a pointed dismissal, and Dumbledore met Genkai's stern eyes for a long, tense moment before he stood, acquiesing.  
  
He walked to the exit, lifted the latch, then paused.  
  
"Professor... is there anything you're not telling me?"  
  
Genkai rolled her eyes. "Plenty. You have your secrets, I have mine. Now do beat it so I can check on Kurama's recovery without you violating his privacy. Potter, go find Hiei and tell him I want Yukina down here as soon as she's able."  
  
Harry stared for a moment, then levered himself slowly from the exceedingly comfortable chair. "Where is...?"  
  
"Try the kitchens. Then go get some sleep, Potter."  
  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
  
Youko had eavesdropped on the entire conversation, waiting for Genkai to chase Dumbledore off. He hadn't expected her to kick Harry out as well, but come to think of it...  
  
He opened the door and leaned against the jamb. "Good idea," he said.  
  
Genkai ignored the comment. "Plausible deniability," she muttered, jerking her thumb at Draco. "What do you want to do with him?"  
  
Smirking, Youko raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I have anything in mind?"  
  
"You went through too much trouble to bring him back."  
  
True, that had its implications... but... "Perhaps I just want him where I can keep an eye on him," Youko said. "Can you imagine the mess if I'd left him to die and he didn't?"  
  
"Yes," Genkai snapped. "It's almost exactly equal to the mess we have now."  
  
Youko chuckled. "'Almost' being the operative term," he murmured, crossing the room to sit on the couch, almost on Draco's legs. The boy's eyes, huge with renewed fright and rising hysteria, snapped to him. Youko leaned in just slightly, looming over the Petrified, helpless boy. "By now, he's discarded the idea of announcing my species to the school and press, in favor of using the information to cover his failure to Voldemort." Draco's eyes flew impossibly wider. Youko purred, "Haven't you, Draco?"  
  
Genkai rolled her eyes. "Obviously."  
  
"Ah," Youko continued, "but he hasn't taken me into account here, yet. It doesn't matter if he announces me to the entire Wizarding world, or just Voldemort." He stroked the back of a claw along Draco's cheek. "They'd banish me, or try to kill me, and guess what, Draco? That would annoy me. And I would know exactly who to be annoyed with, wouldn't I, Draco?"  
  
No answer. Not that Youko would have expected one, even if Draco had been able to talk at this point.  
  
"It seems to me that you're in a terrible position here, aren't you?" Youko murmured. "Either you go crawling back to Voldemort with your failure, and hope he allows you the time to share my little secret... thus making a demon very, very unhappy at you... or you don't. Voldemort will still be angry with you, but at least I won't be... and I can be convinced to safeguard you from Voldemort." Youko sat up. "Take your pick. The Dark wizard with no need to protect you, or the demon with a vested interest in doing so."  
  
Draco stared in open, dead-white horror.  
  
Youko took up his wand and broke the Body-bind charm. "I'm waiting."  
  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
  
Two more buckets of ice. The sky light in the east, the corridors cool, windows spotted with dew, and an empty bucket in each hand. Hiei darted through the same shadowy corridors of the school, back and forth between the kitchens and Yukina's ritual room, this time on his way down once more to the kitchens.  
  
Yukina's fever, a side effect of her reaction to the power high of the summer solstice, had melted enough ice that Hiei had needed to also bring towels since sunset. It was enough that Kuwabara's worry superceded any inclination to notice Yukina's figure in her soaked robes... so Hiei hadn't needed to suppress an overwhelming urge to beat Kuwabara to a bloody pulp.  
  
But the ritual was almost over. Just a few more trips, maybe three at best, before Yukina's fever should break. Then a day's rest. Then a few days to pack, and they would get the hell out of this school, and he would have a full summer alone to regain some equilibrium and train.  
  
Just two more buckets of ice.  
  
Hiei sped around a corner and nearly crashed into an exhausted, muddy Harry Potter, leaning against the food portrait entrance to the kitchens.  
  
"You look like shit."  
  
Harry raised his head, eyes focusing on Hiei. "Thanks. Is Yukina up?"  
  
Why the hell was he asking about Yukina? "No," Hiei said curtly.  
  
"Oh." Harry yawned, not budging from in front of the portrait.  
  
"You're in my way," Hiei told him.  
  
A shrug. "S'posed to tell you Genkai wants to see Yukina soon as possible."  
  
Demands for the only healer on the team besides Genkai, plus Harry's condition, factoring in Yukina's condition, equaled... one hell of a mess that I've missed, Hiei concluded. "Fine. I'll tell her. Get out of my way."  
  
Harry pushed himself off the portrait, leaving a faint streak of dirt over a cluster of grapes. Hiei shoved past, tickled the pear, and ducked into the eternal chaos of the House Elves' domain. Refilling the buckets quickly, he returned to the corridor to find Harry still there.  
  
"What?" Hiei snapped.  
  
Harry shifted uncomfortably. "It's... um, it's Kurama." Hiei's blood curdled, as Harry continued, "Just thought you might... want to know."  
  
That didn't warrant a response. Hiei darted to the side, speeding past Harry in a blur.  
  
He was busy.  
  
He had a ritual to finish. His sister. He couldn't break her ritual now, after nearly 24 hours of work. He'd finish. She'd wake. And then...  
  
Then he could think about it.  
  
Bright, thin sunshine splashed at low angles across the corridor floors, flickering past like old film reels as Hiei ran at top speeds back along the route he'd run hundreds of times in the last hours. Harry had delayed him too long, Yukina would be waking on this return...  
  
He skidded to a stop outside the heavy oak door, nearly going to his knees to do so, and set one bucket down. Gently opening the door, he entered the dark, cool room for a last time.  
  
Yukina still lay unconscious, robes floating in her tub of icemelt, the deep red black with water. Tendrils of hair stuck to her pale face, some stiff with sweat, but most not. Kuwabara's large knuckle under her chin kept her face tilted out of the water, and even as Hiei entered, the human boy scooped up a shallow handful of water with nearly-blue hands.  
  
"Don't," Hiei murmured before Kuwabara could pour it over her forehead. It was the first word Hiei had said in this room except for the ritual sutra Kuwabara couldn't pronounce.  
  
Kuwabara's hand slipped, pouring the icy water over her neck as if that was where he'd intended to do so all along. Otherwise, he gave no outward sign that he'd heard Hiei.  
  
Hiei dumped the bucketfuls of ice into the bath, one on each side of his sister, just as he had the entire day. Rather than pick the buckets back up, though, he leaned in and set the back of his hand against her forehead.  
  
The skin was cool to the touch. Hiei pressed his hand to one cheek, pale rather than flushed with fever, and found it equally cool.  
  
"Her fever's broken," he murmured. "The ritual's over." Kuwabara didn't answer, so Hiei glanced up. "You can acknowledge that I exist again. Get a dry towel while I wake her up."  
  
Kuwabara swayed a bit, closing his eyes and sighing noisily in relief, then pushed himself off his stool and looked around the room. One large, dry towel lay folded on a shelf with a thick terrycloth bathrobe and a cotton witch's summer robe, and he fetched both. As Hiei slid an arm under Yukina's shoulders, plunging it into the bath and ignoring the frigid water, and lifted her to a sitting position, Kuwabara shook out the towel. He knelt and wrapped it around her hair, squeezing the water out gently to blot it dry.  
  
Hiei used his free hand, forearm braced against Yukina's collarbones to keep her upright, and lightly tapped her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Yukina. Wake up."  
  
No response.  
  
Hiei tried again. This time, Yukina flinched. "Wake up," Hiei repeated.  
  
"'N...'niisan...?"  
  
Kuwabara beamed, nearly dropping the towel. "Yukina-san! You're awake!"  
  
"...Kazuma?" She let her head roll a bit to the side, peering up at Kuwabara out of one slitted eye, and smiled weakly. "Kazuma."  
  
Enough of this. Hiei dipped forward, scooping Yukina right out of the tub in a rush of water and wet silk. She squeaked, and he set her on her feet, pulling one arm over his shoulders to keep her standing and steady.  
  
"Oniisan..."  
  
"Genkai wants to see you as soon as possible," Hiei said.  
  
"Hey!" Kuwabara yelped. "You jerk, she needs time to recover and..."  
  
"She'll recover faster if she's not coddled," Hiei interrupted, slipping out from under Yukina's arm, putting a hand on her shoulder just in case. Yukina swayed slightly, but remained standing.  
  
Kuwabara all but growled. "But..."  
  
"Kazuma..." Yukina murmured, straightening up, arms outstretched instinctively away to minimize contact with her wet robe, "I'm fine. I feel much better already, see?" She smiled, quelling Kuwabara's next protest. "I'm sure Genkai just wants to make sure I'm all right."  
  
Hiei let her go and stepped back, crossing his arms. Not true, but he would wait until Yukina had at least changed into something less plastered-to-her-skin. Speaking of which... "Let her change," he snapped, turning his back on his sister.  
  
A squawk from Kuwabara, and some hasty rustles of movement; Hiei listened to Kuwabara nearly shove the fresh, dry robe into Yukina's hands, to the human boy turning sharply away, to the audible gulps and other noises of embarrassment Kuwabara made, hidden by the wet slap of Yukina shedding her ritual robe. Another minute where Hiei could almost hear Kuwabara's blood pressure rising, and Yukina announced that she was finished.  
  
Hiei turned to face his sister once more, noticing from the corner of his eye that Kuwabara's face was Gryffindor red. He ignored it. "Are you ready to go?"  
  
"Yes," Yukina replied. If she was bemused at Hiei's haste, she didn't show it.  
  
Kuwabara wasn't so discreet. "What's the hurry?" he asked brusquely.  
  
I was going to have to mention it before we got there, anyway, Hiei thought. He directed his answer towards Yukina. "Genkai doesn't want to check on you." She blinked. "She sent a messenger. Something happened to Kurama."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
After talking to Hiei, Harry wandered back towards the professor's wing. But the tapestry was closed, and no amount of trying to repeat Youko Kurama's growled password worked. He considered heading back to Gryffindor Tower, but no doubt somebody had to have woken for the bedcheck, and he didn't want to answer more questions.  
  
That left one place to go. The Hospital Wing, to sit with Hermione. Harry trudged upstairs, stopping in a bathroom to wash his hands and face, and shake a bit.  
  
A demon.  
  
He'd spent the night running around the Forest, working with a demon.  
  
And, glancing into the mirror over the sink, he looked like it. Harry pulled out his wand, muttering, "Scourgify." The mud and twigs vanished, the couple of tears in his robe repairing themselves. Now he just looked rumpled and tired, rather than fresh out of the Forest.  
  
He left the bathroom, and shortly reached the Hospital Wing. The doors stood half-open, and the wing was empty, save for Hermione and Keiko, asleep in adjacent beds. Harry stumbled to and collapsed into a hard little chair next to Hermione's bed.  
  
A demon...  
  
"Morning, Hermione," he murmured. She slept on, oblivious.  
  
Demons, summonings, unicorn blood amulets... all whirled in Harry's mind. "I wish you were awake. I could use a little smart advice right now." Runes and blood. Demons on each side. Malfoy and Kurama.  
  
"Hey..." Harry went on, coughing a puff of wry laughter. "I found out what the visions meant. You'd love the research opportunity, but it's... it's pretty bad." Understatement. And he hadn't found out why. Just uncovered more secrets, more questions, more...  
  
Harry folded his arms on Hermione's mattress, laying his suddenly-aching head on them, peering at his best, smartest friend. "It's just so complicated, Hermione..." he mumbled. "What do you do when you find out an otherwise nice guy's a monster?"  
  
Silence.  
  
Slowly, the room darkened, Harry's eyes growing heavy. He blinked slowly, Hermione's sleeping face going in and out of focus. And in the last moments before the world went dark, he remembered...  
  
I covered for you... I trusted you... Harry, he's a werewolf!  
  
Two out of three, Miss Granger...  
  
So that was it.  
  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
  
Genkai's suite degenerated into the controlled chaos of an emergency room within seconds of Yukina, Kuwabara, and Hiei's arrival. By the time Hiei entered the suite, Yukina sat on the couch next to Youko Kurama, who lay on a thick layer of towels.  
  
Hiei did a double-take. Youko? Harry hadn't mentioned Youko, but... Hiei flicked a glance at the rest of the room, spotting Malfoy huddled in an armchair... this meant trouble. He pulled the boy from the chair and dragged him to Genkai's kitchen.  
  
"Ow!" Malfoy yelped. "Let go..."  
  
"I want the situation in your words," Hiei snapped, shoving Malfoy onto the footstool Genkai used to reach the countertops.  
  
The blond gulped, and began to speak. Hiei listened with half an ear, correlating his story to the answers Kurama was giving Yukina in the living room. The stories didn't match in vital places... no mention of Kurama's human injuries, only that the potion had been in his wounds to turn him into Youko. Nothing said of the pierced heart, the lung damage, the broken sternum and ribs, the lacerations through other vital organs...  
  
Malfoy didn't know. That was good. Enemies shouldn't know the extent of one's injuries; they could exploit that, and Malfoy no doubt would.  
  
"Genkai!" Yukina yelped, shrill. "Genkai, Kurama's reverting...!"  
  
"Start working now!" Genkai snapped. "Kurama, fight the reversion, get it as slow as you can, do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME?"  
  
Hiei kicked the kitchen door shut.  
  



	52. In The End

  
  
  
  
The remaining days passed all too quickly, with many students catching up on missed sleep. Owls flew back and forth in a flurry of summer planning, friends attempting to coordinate family holiday schedules whenever possible, and Ravenclaws checking luggage allowances and owl-ordering renewed featherlight and compression charms for their massive volumes of summer reading. In Slytherin House, students boasted shrilly about lavish parties, tickets to exclusive concerts and theatre productions, various lessons in arts, music, "and such", all the while with brittle gazes flicking over each other.  
  
Failure infected Slytherin House, but not the usual failure of lost points, of lost games, of lost Cups won by Gryffindors and mudbloods. Whispers of more, of worse, hissed in the cold corners of the dungeons, evaporating at the slightest untoward glance, replaced with thin, glassy laughter. And no one's laughter was more false, no one's eyes sharper and more nervous, than Draco Malfoy's.  
  
No one knew it had been him, of course. Only that they (meaning the purebloods, and their few kin and sympathizers in other Houses) had been told to stay put, stay hidden, just plain to stay and lay low, that a telling blow would be delivered during the night.  
  
But it hadn't. Every year eyed the other years suspisciously, eyed the other sex in their own year, except the boys in Draco's own dorm. And even then, they couldn't know if it had been him or Minamino who'd...  
  
Failed.  
  
The House watched itself warily. _Was it you? Is it you? Did you fail father's Master, mother's Lord? Is it you? Is it you?_  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
In Gryffindor, chaos reigned. Joy at surviving another round of exams, and a school year notably vacant of You-Know-Who, boosted spirits within the already excitable House. The Weasley twins hosted noisy parties every evening and late into the night, the wireless radio blaring and butterbeer making the rounds, countering every one of Hermione's weak protests with a chorused "school's over; we're not students anymore!"  
  
In the mornings and after dinner, Kurama, fully healed and as unruffled as usual, came to pick up Neville for extensive tutoring in the warm summer air. Every time, Harry watched the Slytherin carefully, searching for one slip, one hint of the gold-eyed demon.  
  
On Thursday, Kurama met Harry's eyes, and his own crinkled in amusement, an eyebrow quirking.  
  
Harry turned away, suddenly cold.  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
Hufflepuff, for the first time in twelve years, won the Quidditch cup, therefore snatching the House cup from Ravenclaw by a narrow five-point margin. So the End-of-Term feast took place amid a blinding display of yellow and black, prompting several bitter mutterings of "stupid bumblebees" from both Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. The celebration was subdued, however, as several older Hufflepuffs requested the win be dedicated to their former Seeker, Cedric Diggory, now dead a year.  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
Sunday morning, Hogwarts awoke to the chaos of last-minute packing. Kurama, having packed all but a change of clothes and his toiletries the night before, calmly ignored the chaos of shouting boys around him as he tucked the last few items away.  
  
"That's my brush, Crabbe! What are you doing with it? Give it here!"  
  
"It's mine." Crabbe turned the handle, pointing. "See? My initials."  
  
Blaise hissed in fury, grabbing at the brush. "Scratched with a penknife over my engraved name! How dumb do you think I am?"  
  
"Uh..."  
  
Kurama checked under his bed, then among the curtains, carefully weeding the Devil's Snare out. A vine curled around his neck, gently restrained by his magic, as he dug its handful of dirt and roots from the corner of his box spring and lowered it into a paper bag. The bag and vine, he buried in his trunk, disentangling himself easily.  
  
Draco came in, arms laden with his basket of toiletries (several of which, Kurama could see, were marked with the Hogwarts crest; probably stolen). "You," he commanded, "whatever it is, cut it out. I can hear you halfway down the hall." The box got dumped onto the bed, and Draco began stuffing his trunk.  
  
Crabbe and Blaise subsided, Blaise yanking the brush from Crabbe's hand. They filled their trunks in silence, then left to fetch their things from the bathroom.  
  
The instant the door shut, Draco shoved his trunk lid closed and sat on it. "Okay, Minamino. Where's the stuff?"  
  
Kurama turned his head to face Draco, staring until Draco flinched, then pulled a vial from his pocket. "This is it," he murmured. Draco reached for it eagerly, and Kurama twitched it away from the boy's grasp. "No turning back?"  
  
"Right, right."  
  
Kurama's eyes narrowed, and he added, "No triggering it early. No going to Voldemort and using this to get away, either. Stick to the plan and you'll get through this intact."  
  
Draco whimpered. "I promised already, just give me...!"  
  
Kurama let Draco snatch the vial away and hide it in his robes. But... "You're sure you know how to activate it by remote?"  
  
"Moste Potente Potions is never wrong," Draco muttered. "If you made it right..."  
  
No need to tell him Snape made it. "It's made right," Kurama snapped. Draco flinched and pretended not to have said anything, locking his trunk and bringing out his wand. Kurama asked, "What are you doing?"  
  
A withering look. "Shrinking my trunk, of course. How else am I supposed to bring it?"  
  
Bring it? Is he mad? "You aren't," Kurama replied.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Unless you want to be bumped right to the top of His 'deserters and traitors' list, you leave that trunk behind. Taking it screams 'planned disappearance'."  
  
Draco turned to face Kurama, frowning. "But... but what am I supposed to do without my stuff?"  
  
Kurama smirked, but didn't answer.  
  
"You're not serious," Draco whined.  
  
"Entirely," Kurama replied. "Leave it be."  
  
After a long second, Draco twitched, as if remembering what Kurama was, and let the subject drop.  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
By the time everyone in the school managed to get down to the platform, several people (including Neville) had run back for forgotten items, and the train was being loaded with luggage, Hiei was delighted to not be taking the train back to London. He had plans to scout the United Kingdom over the summer, while Genkai and Yukina were staying in Hogsmeade.  
  
It had been Yukina's idea to come down to the platform to see the others off. She hadn't taken Hiei's "I can see them leave from the tree" for an answer, nor Genkai's "I don't want to see the little hooligans until September".  
  
"Ah, Yukina-chan!" Kuwabara caught Yukina's hands up. "I'll come to see you, ne?"  
  
"I'd be delighted, Kazuma."  
  
A tap on Hiei's shoulder; Yuusuke. "Oi, Hiei. See you around."  
  
Hiei grunted in acknowledgement, working to ignore the girls: "Yukina-chan, you just have to write," Botan urged. "Okay? Promise you'll write!"  
  
"We'll write back!" Keiko added.  
  
"And send us lots of pictures!"  
  
Hiei edged away from the display, and a hand caught at his sleeve. Hiei turned to see Kurama. "Hey," Kurama murmured, tugging slightly. Hiei allowed himself to be guided towards the fringe of the crowd.  
  
"Hey." The stupid fox had blown his cover, nearly gotten himself killed, saddled himself with an ungrateful human brat... but somehow he still warranted a response.  
  
Kurama smiled. "I'll see you in September?"  
  
"If you don't get dead," Hiei answered.  
  
"I won't if you won't."  
  
"Deal."  
  
A long moment of quiet, then, "Hiei... what do you think of this whole idea?"  
  
Aside from the sheer stupidity of talking about it where they could be overheard? "You're always making things too complicated anyways," Hiei grumbled.  
  
Kurama chuckled. "Thanks."  
  
The train whistle blew, and Kurama hurried to catch it without a backwards glance.  
  
But that was the way Hiei preferred goodbyes, anyways.  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
Draco ignored the prefects' car, opting to sit with Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle in their compartment near the back of the train. "Away from that damn mudblood Granger," he muttered in excuse. "If I ever see her again it'll be too soon."  
  
Crabbe and Goyle accepted that with identical blank-eyed nods, and pulled out a deck of Exploding Snap. The four of them played a tense game for nearly an hour, but shortly before the lunch trolley would arrive, Draco excused himself and headed for the bathroom.  
  
Once inside, he locked the door and propped himself up against the sink, allowing his hands to shake. "Last chance, Draco," he murmured to himself in the mirror. "A brilliant idea right about now..." The wild-eyed face in the mirror stared mutely. "That's what I thought." He reached into his pocket, taking the vial out, and sat on the floor.  
  
One dose. One dose, the last of Kurama's Doppelganger potion. "Bottom's up," Draco muttered, gulping the potion down. His vision promptly swirled away.  
  
And swirled back, this time with Draco's own, blank-eyed face centered in his view. Draco jerked away, though this was exactly as described... he pulled his wand from his real body's pocket and stood, smoothing his hair back.  
  
His real body lay slumped at his feet... Merlin, that's creepy, Draco thought, flinching away. He stuffed his wand in his doppelganger pocket, and checked his false-body's face in the mirror. Everything seemed in order...  
  
He washed his hands, unlocked the bathroom, and left, nodding imperceptibly to Botan waiting in the corridor. If she damaged so much as one hair on his real body... he'd do something very unpleasant to her.  
  
Draco returned to his compartment and ordered lunch.  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
Harry had put off making the decision for over a week.  
  
To be precise, he'd spent the first three or four days getting his sleep habits back on track; a more daunting task than he'd expected, since he'd fought demons and run around the Forest in the most insane hours of the night after wearing himself out with two weeks of OWLs. Then he'd spent another day fending off questions from both fellow students (most notably, Neville, who'd been awake and pacing the boys' dorm stairwell the entire night of solstice).  
  
He'd found that "I got distracted" worked wonders in skimming over the night's events between heading down to the kitchens for a snack and going to sit with Hermione. With Hermione and Ron, "I got distracted getting the Cloak" sufficed. It was really rather unnerving how easily people jumped to conclusions without Harry needing to outright lie.  
  
But now, on the train, the north England countryside passing by in a slow flicker of telephone poles and patchwork fields, there were only a few short hours left... and then the decision would be out of his hands, irreversible for the next several weeks of summer.  
  
It was a tempting thought. Decision by procrastination. But it wasn't really Gryffindor, was it?  
  
They're my friends. They know how to keep secrets. They don't hate Kurama. If I tell them he saved my life...  
  
But he did kill the other demon. He's been lying the whole year. He IS a Slytherin. And Ron's first reaction to Professor Lupin after he admitted to being a werewolf... a crowded place like the train or the platform is NOT the place to tell Ron, and maybe not Hermione.  
  
Hermione. She kept Professor Lupin's secret from us for months. Why?  
  
Harry glanced at Hermione, losing badly to Ron at chess and laughing about it.  
  
WHY? You could've trusted us, Hermione! We're your friends! We're Gryffindors, courage and honor and...  
  
... and...  
  
... and it wouldn't have been right, would it.  
  
He bit back a sigh. Right, then. He wouldn't tell Ron or Hermione yet.  
  
Ron tipped Hermione's king. "Checkmate," he said, grinning.  
  
"Okay, that is IT!" Hermione pushed the board towards Ron and dug into her robes, coming up with a deck of cards. "We're playing something else now. Harry, you in?"  
  
Harry sat forward. "Sure. What are we playing?"  
  
"A Muggle game." And as Hermione explained the rules, the train continued south out of Scotland, leaving Harry's worries behind.  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
The lights of London shone in the twilight as the Hogwarts Express approached the platform. In the mob of students filling the corridors, eager to get off the train and home to their families, Draco pushed his way to the bathroom once more.  
  
He got to the toilet compartment just before Kurama did, and shoved past the redhead to get inside. After using the facilities just to waste time, and washing his hands, Draco stepped out of view of the mirror and took his wand out.  
  
"This had better work," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and aiming at himself. He tapped his heel against the door once, twice, alerting Kurama, then... "Imperio," Draco whispered.  
  
The spell slammed against him, jolting his mind from his false body, the body crumpling into smoke. As magic hooked behind his navel like a Portkey and jerked Draco from the train, he heard the clatter of his wand dropping free to the tiled floor.  
  
-0-0-0-  
  
Kurama entered the unlocked toilet compartment, picked up Draco's wand, and tucked it into the pocket of his Muggle clothing alongside his own wand. Then he used the facilities, washed his hands, and returned to the crowded corridor as the whistle blew.  
  
The train lurched to a stop.  
  
Botan had better be back, Kurama thought.  
  
-0-0-0  
  
Platform 9 and 3/4, as always, was a madhouse. Students mobbed the luggage carts, too eager to start vacation to bother waiting turns. Owls flapped and hooted offense in their cages, rattled and jostled about.  
  
"Hannah! Hannah, over here, honey!"  
  
"Fred! George! For Merlin's sake...!"  
  
"NEV! Wait, you forgot...!"  
  
"Kurama-san! Keiko-chan! Kochira de! Hayaku, hayaku!"  
  
Harry dodged larger students with all his Seeker agility, snatching a cart without rolling over anyone's feet or getting his own stepped on, manhandling his luggage and Hedwig onto the cart without too much trouble, and getting to the edge of the crowd and the Weasleys.  
  
Mrs. Weasley promptly hugged him, hands still full of confiscated fireworks. "Harry, dear, look at you, you've grown so much!"  
  
Harry squirmed out of the embrace. "I guess," he agreed.  
  
She beamed. "How was school? It's been such a quiet year..."  
  
Erk. "It's been... interesting," Harry replied. He tried a smile. "Very strange. The Defense professor hasn't tried to kill me."  
  
Mrs. Weasley jerked in shock, mouth dropping open.  
  
Oops, Harry thought.  
  
"Oh, my poor child..." she wavered, pulling him back into a hug and patting his head. Harry's eyes flew wide... what was she doing? "I... a... at least... they've managed to hire a Defense professor who isn't on You-Know-Who's side, hm?"  
  
"Um, yes." Right. Not on the wrong side. Could she let go now?  
  
As if reading his mind, Mrs. Weasley released Harry, turning to her children with a face-saving, no-nonsense huff. Harry exchanged a glance with Ron, who rolled his eyes theatrically, as Mrs. Weasley checked they had all the luggage.  
  
"Well, that looks like everything," she said. "Shall we go?"  
  
Harry nodded along with the Weasley brood. Vernon Dursley would be on the Muggle side of the train station. He'd leave them there.  
  
The Weasleys and Harry pushed through the crowd towards the exit from Platform 9 and 3/4. One at a time, the Weasley children angled their luggage carts, shoved, and vanished into the brick wall.  
  
Then it was Harry's turn. With one last glance at the platform, he ran back into the Muggle world.  
  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Best Defense [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2791661) by [Opalsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opalsong/pseuds/Opalsong)




End file.
